Don't Pry
by LittleFlatts
Summary: Barney Ross finally thinks over the enigma that is the Expendables' medic, Molly Booker. Of course, though, she's not saying anything. Would you expect any less from the Lone Wolf's little girl?
1. Chapter 1

The Golden Rule of being on a team like the Expendables was that you never pried into your teammates' lives. Sure, the boss did a background check, asked you a few questions, but a reputation and certain skills were all you needed for this industry.

She had a clear head when it mattered, that's why Barney had let her on the team. In his many years in the military and as a mercenary, he had seen what adrenaline and the sight of blood could do to a person.

He had seen men panic when bullets began to fly, their faces turn green when they saw a fallen comrade.

Molly Booker didn't even flinch when she saw men killed.

Perhaps it was the fact that the Lone Wolf raised her, that she had his blood flowing through her veins.

Barney didn't know, but he wasn't going to complain.

"This is going to hurt, Ross," her voice broke through his thoughts. His dark eyes met hers.

She hadn't gotten out of this last job unscathed. None of them had. Blood dripped from a cut on her brow and she was standing stiffly, hinting at broken ribs.

"Just do it," he said gruffly, forcing his muscles to relax. She slid the metal probe into the bullet hole. Barney gripped the arm of his chair tightly.

He forced himself to survey his team. They were patching themselves up. Yang was wrapping gauze around his arm, Gunnar had a bottle of vodka and was alternating between pouring it on Christmas's injuries and drinking it. They would all survive.

One bullet wound wasn't too bad for a mission.

Molly popped the morphed bullet out. Barney hissed out an oath. She didn't even bat an eye. She was used to this.

Barney watched her carefully as she debrided the wound in his shoulder.

She was much younger than the rest of them, maybe in her mid twenties, but her dark eyes and weighted expressions always made her seem older, more mature, wiser than she should have been.

_She shouldn't be here_, Barney thought helplessly, _she should be getting her heart broken by some boy, getting married, having kids, being a mother._

She shouldn't be playing nurse to a few old men who were too stupid to quit the life of a mercenary.

"What are you doin' here, Booker?" he asked. She glanced up at him.

"Patching your sorry ass up, Ross, what's it look like?" she asked impatiently.

He had never given it a thought that she refused to call them by their first names. He thought it was just professionalism, and he didn't mind it.

But now that Barney Ross thought about it, he had seen the medics in the military employ the same strategy.

They kept their distance, just in case. He hadn't made the connection until now.

It had been almost two years since Booker called Tool and asked if they needed a medic. Molly Booker had shown up with a small duffel bag and a med kit the next day.

None of the Expendables knew where she lived or what she did in her off time.

"Alright, don't get 'em wet," she warned, tying off the last stitch.

"I _have_ had stitches before, kid," Barney informed her. She gave him a thin smile as she packed away her tools. "Siddown and let me look at that cut," he said, rising from his seat. Her eyes flashed.

"It's nothing," she said coolly. So, it was true that doctors made the worst patients.

"I can make it an order, if you want," Barney remarked. Molly glared, but sat in his vacated chair.

With practiced ease, Barney cleaned the cut on her brow and butterflied it closed. "How bad are your ribs hurt?" he asked. She looked up at him stonily.

"I've had worse."

"I don't doubt it, kid, but I'd sleep better if I knew you didn't have internal bleeding."

Sulkily, she unbuttoned her jacket, revealing the black tank top. Her shoulders were a deep golden brown from days under the sun. She had more difficulty taking her top off than she should have. The whole left side of her torso was painted with deep, brutal purples and violent reds.

"Jesus, kid, how did you manage this?" Barney demanded, pressing a hand to her side. She flinched away.

"You know that big guy they had, he didn't wanna kill me outright. He thought it'd be a fun game of cat and mouse. He knocked me into the pile of beams they had. I shot him," she said bluntly.

Barney surveyed her coolly. She looked a lot smaller and a whole lot younger in her olive fatigues and the black sports bra.

"I should call your dad..." Barney shuddered to think what the Lone Wolf would do if he saw how badly his daughter had gotten hurt.

"You think my dad's gonna care, Ross? He's a mercenary, he knows the Life. " There was a bitterness to her voice as she said it, pulling her shirt back on. "I'm going home. Call if you need me for anything," she threw her jacket over her arm and picked up her med kit. The guys all called their goodbyes. She waved to show she'd heard them.

Barney inwardly battled with himself.

To pry or not to pry.

On one hand, he didn't know how well she would react to his attention, seeing how well she had managed to distance herself from them.

But on the other hand, she _was_ part of his team, and as a leader, it was his job to watch out for the team.

He watched her peel out of the parking lot with a grim expression on his face.

* * *

Barney followed her out of the city to a cabin in the woods. She didn't say anything as she watched him pull up her driveway, but she left the door unlocked.

"There's beer in the fridge and some chips in the pantry. Help yourself. I'm going to shower," she told him. Exhaustion was clear on her face. She either didn't care that he'd followed her, or she was just too tired to put up a fight.

So Barney spent the night on her couch, with some football rerun on silent, a beer in his hand.

The next morning, he woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs.

Molly was holding herself stiffly and her lips were tight as she hovered over the stove, a spatula in one hand.

She slid a plate of toast, fluffy yellow eggs, and crispy bacon in front of him as he sat at the breakfast bar.

"Sorry there's no waffles. I'm out of flour. You want apple cider or milk?"

He was mildly surprised at seeing this part of her. He had only ever seen Molly in her fatigues and Kevlar, with a gun on her hip. The thought of her making waffles was laughable.

Now, though, she was wearing a t-shirt that was two sizes too big and flannel pants, with her red/blonde hair hanging in unruly curls down her back. She didn't look like a mercenary.

"Ross," she snapped her fingers to gain his attention, "cider or milk?"

"Cider," he answered abruptly. She poured two glasses and sat down across from him at the breakfast bar.

They didn't speak as they ate. After they finished, Barney washed the dishes while she dried and put them away.

"I called my dad last night," she offered, "he told me to tell you hi."

"I thought you weren't going to call him...?" Barney trailed off.

"I call him every time I get back from a mission. That way he'll know if something goes wrong," she said simply.

"How is he, anyways?" Barney wondered. Molly shrugged simply.

"He's with my step mom at the moment, somewhere in Romania. I dunno."

Barney shot a glance to her fridge. There was a single picture on it, held there by a magnet. Molly herself wasn't in the picture, but Booker was, with an Eastern European woman on his arm, and a dark haired little boy on his shoulders. They were all wearing big cheesy grins.

"That your brother?" Barney asked, putting the pieces together. Molly's head snapped around to look at him.

"Half. He's my half brother."

It all made sense then.

Molly had left Booker to his new family and joined the very same business he was in. To earn her father's love and respect, maybe?

Barney didn't know and he wasn't keen on breaching the topic.

There was that Golden Rule again. You didn't go prying.

So he wasn't going to.

Barney was going to accept that he had a medic on his team who was damn good under fire. He would accept that she kept her distance so as not to get attached if the worst should happen.

And he would leave it at that.

After all, she was the Lone Wolf's flesh and blood.

He doubted he could get her to talk if he tried.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Originally, this was just supposed to be a oneshot, but your follows and review have made me happy, so I figured I'd continue on with it. :)**

* * *

"Where were you last night?" were the first words out of Tool's mouth as Barney entered the tattoo shop.

"Followed Booker home to make sure she was alright," Barney said gruffly. Tool raised his brows.

"And how did she take that?" Tool wondered idly.

"Well, I'm still alive, aren't I?" Barney smirked. Tool shook his head disparagingly.

"You're lucky she didn't castrate you. _I_ wouldn't cross any kid that was raised by the Lone Wolf," Tool scoffed.

"I think I could take her," Barney said dryly.

"Take who?" Christmas asked as he entered the room. His arms were full of beer. He shot Barney a quizzical look as he stepped into the back to put the alcohol in the fridge. Barney rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Barney was just regaling me of his night spent in the lion's den. Judging by the crumbs on his shirt, she fed him, too," Tool grinned wickedly. Barney gave Tool an even look.

"Christ, you followed Booker _home_?!" Christmas straddled a chair backwards, leaning over the back, eager for the story.

"To check on her. You saw how bad off her ribs were. I slept on the couch, she made breakfast, I came here. Anything else ya'd like to insinuate, Tool?" Barney glowered at the men. Tool just grinned and shook his head.

This wasn't the end of the teasing, and they all knew it.

* * *

A few weeks later, they had seen neither hide nor hair of Molly. Tool assured them that he'd called to check in on her.

"Hey, anybody invite Booker?" Toll Road asked as Yin Yang helped him set up the flat screen in the back of Tool's shop.

"You want the Ice Queen to come watch football with us?" Hale Caesar scoffed.

The medic had earned that nickname about three months into it. She had pulled a piece of shrapnel out of Gunnar's leg without even offering him any warning. All she had said as the Swede screamed expletives and flailed about was, "Hold him down."

Molly Booker was a helluva medic, but her bedside manner was lacking.

"Think of it as a team building exercise," Christmas smirked.

"You wanna be the one to tell her that?" Barney cocked a brow. For all their nicknames and derision for Molly Booker, deep down they all had a healthy respect for her abilities.

"You're all a bunch of pussies," Tool said, picking up his phone. He dialed a number and pressed it to his ear.

"Hey, gorgeous, what's up?" Eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets as Tool greeted the medic. He paused while she answered. "Well, we're just setting up the TV. Football's on this afternoon. You wanna come watch it with us? Christmas says it's a team building exercise." Tool grinned at her response. "All right, see you in twenty. Bye."

The mercenaries were at a loss for words.

Sure enough, twenty five minutes later, Molly walked into the shop. She wore baggy jeans and a loose Journey t shirt. She looked more like a college student than a gun toting mercenary.

"Molly! Glad you could make it, doll, how're the ribs?" Tool greeted her jovially. She lifted the hem of her shirt and showcased the bruises that had turned a dull purple.

"I'll live," she said simply, "How goes it, boys?" she asked taking the lawn chair that Christmas kicked her way.

"Better, now that you're here, Booker," Gunnar leered.

"Keep a lid on it, Jensen, or I'll helpfully forget how to do sutures the next time you get shot," she kept her tone conversational.

Tool coughed to hide his snickering and Barney openly smirked.

At first, he had had his reservations about letting a woman on the team. He hadn't wanted her to be a distraction or a flirt.

But Molly Booker had proven that she could handle herself and the attentions of the team.

"You know football, Molly?" Toll Road asked, sitting down next to her.

"I haven't watched it for years," she admitted, "I think I was about sixteen when I watched it last."

"What made you stop?" Toll Road wondered.

"I went to college. I had my nose buried in a book and I didn't come up for air for about four years."

"_You_ went to college?" Hale Caesar asked disbelievingly. She cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, you know, the U.S. Military doesn't take kindly to people sewing up their boys unless they've had some training," Molly said sarcastically.

"I didn't know you were military!" Toll Road squawked. Molly settled back in her chair.

"First Lieutenant Marie Booker, Airborne," she hooked her thumb around a ballchain around her neck and pulled it taut, yanking the dog tags out from under her shirt.

"What made you quit?" Toll Road asked. Molly's mouth tightened. She had opened herself up for that one, hadn't she?

"Game's on," Barney unmuted the television as they prepared for the kick off. As the men leaned forward eagerly, Barney watched Molly carefully tuck her dog tags back under her shirt.

He knew she had been in the military and gone to college, he also knew she had been honorably discharged, but he also knew that there weren't a lot of records on the unit she had been assigned to.

_Don't pry_, he chided, forcing himself to focus on the game.


	3. Guitars, Jobs, and Recon

"New job?" Molly asked, entering Tool's. She dropped into the ratty couch in the front room. The morning sun shone into the tattoo parlor, highlighting the red in her hair.

The fatigues and combat boots were back, and Barney saw the outline of a gun under her shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. A few curly tendrils had escaped. She tucked them behind her ear impatiently.

"Yeah. You heard from the guys? I called them, but voice mail picked up," Barney frowned. Molly gave a mirthless smile.

"Ross, it's eight o'clock on a Saturday. They're probably sleeping off hangovers. I wouldn't expect them for a few hours."

Barney shrugged, understanding her logic.

"Why aren't you?" he asked. This was pushing the 'don't pry' rule, but Tool was in the back and making conversation was better than sitting in a thick silence.

"Why aren't I what?" she looked befuddled.

"Hung over."

"I don't like to get drunk," she said simply.

"How do you forget, then?" The words slipped out before Barney could stop them. Molly's expression darkened as she surveyed her leader.

"I don't," was her answer.

Before Barney could say anything else, Tool came into the shop, clutching a mug of coffee and rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Well, doll, if I had known you were out here, I would have come down a lot sooner," he winked. Molly rolled her eyes at the old flirt.

"Good morning to you, too, Tool," she shook her head.

"Finished that guitar up last night. Wanna have a look?" Tool asked, a grin stretching over his face. Molly stood from the couch, tugging the hem of her shirt down over her holster.

"You know it," she returned his smile.

Barney followed them to the back of the shop, where Tool designed tattoos and occasionally painted guitars for his random bed buddies.

Tool lifted the acoustic guitar from its stand and presented it to Molly. She looked over the body critically.

Barney had to admit that Tool had outdone himself on this one. Dark vines crept along the body. A large, red and gold sunflower was the eye catcher, positioned right under the bridge. A few smaller sunflowers flanked it.

Molly let out a low whistle.

"It's gorgeous, Tool," she complimented sincerely, trying to hand it back to him.

"Glad you think so, because the bitch I was painting it for left me. If you don't want it, I'm just going to take it to the range for target practice," Tool said bluntly. Molly's dark eyes widened.

"Tool, I can't-"

"Come on, Molly, I know how much you appreciate a good instrument. If you want to pay me, then just play something," Tool said simply. Molly glanced at Barney for help.

"It's useless to argue with him," Barney pointed out.

* * *

Molly sat on the couch and gave the strings an experimental strum. She winced at the out-of-tune noise.

Barney and Tool conversed in low tones as she worked the tuning pegs until the guitar sounded half way decent.

Molly would have to use her electric tuner on it when she got home, but doing it manually would have to suffice for now.

Her fingers picked out a familiar melody. She didn't even have to look at the strings. Molly went off into her own little world, unaware that Tool and Barney had stopped to listen.

"I didn't know she played guitar," Barney admitted quietly. To be honest, there were a lot of things that he didn't know about the medic.

It was sad, really, considering she had been part of the team for two years.

"I didn't either until a few months ago. She saw one of the guitars I was doing and started asking me about it."

Barney listened to her hum along for several more minutes before he spoke again.

"Who taught you how to play, Booker?"

Her head snapped up, like she'd forgotten he was there.

"My cousin, Alan. He stayed with my grandparents one summer. He could play and sing all the Johnny Cash songs," Molly bit her bottom lip, obviously lost in thought.

"You grow up with your grandparents?" Since she was in a sharing mood, Barney didn't mind pressing his luck.

"Yeah. Ma didn't really want a kid and Dad... Well, you know my Dad," she smiled wryly. Barney forced himself to smile back at her.

* * *

Molly's prediction was correct. The rest of the team didn't stumble in for another few hours. Barney was a little less than pleased.

"I'm glad there wasn't an emergency," he said sarcastically.

"Come on, Barney, it's our day off!" Caesar complained, dropping onto the couch next to Molly. She carefully put the guitar down.

"What's the job, Ross?" she asked before an argument could arise.

"Cartel's kidnapped the son of a senator, taken him down into Colombia. They want over three million for ransom," Barney said simply.

"What's the pay out?" Christmas asked.

"Eighty-k per man."

"What kind of job is this looking like? Is it snatch and grab, do we have to be subtle...?" Molly asked.

"I don't know. We'll have to run some recon," Barney said honestly.

"How's your Spanish?" Gunnar chuckled.

* * *

Molly, Barney, and Christmas were going on the recon mission. She had, surprisingly, volunteered for it.

"You can't speak Spanish for shit," she had pointed out when Barney began to protest. It was usually just him and Christmas who ran recon.

It was well known, though, that Molly knew more languages than all of them combined. She also had a knack for talking her way out of hairy situations.

The sun was a dim band on the horizon when they made their landing. Barney led the way through the jungle, following the GPS device in his hand.

They weren't supposed to make any contact. This was supposed to be a covert op.

Their destination took over two hours to reach on foot. It was a compound, right outside of a small village.

"I don't like how close the civilians are," Molly said grimly as they surveyed the valley before them.

"They're in a death box. We could pick all of the cartel members off with a few snipers," Christmas noted.

"They'd wise up after the first few dropped. And we're not trying to kill the Cartel. We're trying to rescue the Senator's wayward son," Molly pointed out.

"How good of a sniper are you, Booker?" Barney asked. He'd been silent, listening to their observations.

"Not as good as Gunnar. It takes me too long to take aim. 300 yards is as far as my efficiency goes," Molly said apologetically.

"We have Gunnar on over watch right here, he can see the entire compound. He starts shooting, we go in, find the Senator's son, get out."

"He's only going to be able to see this side, Ross, they'll cluster on the other side," Molly pointed out.

Barney sighed.

"I guess we've got our work cut out for us, then."


	4. Try Outs

**A/N: Thanks to MiniCinnamon99 for the reviews. They've really made my day :)**

* * *

The Expendables had spent the entire day out at the firing range, exhausting all of their resources to find a half decent sniper.

"_I _can out shoot them and I'm supposed to be the damn medic!" Molly said disgustedly.

"You may just have to be a sniper for this next mission, Booker, if this next guy isn't up to par," Barney pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What's his name?" Christmas wondered. Molly glanced at the list Tool had bestowed upon them that morning.

"Billy Timmons. He was military," she noted.

"That him?" Caesar pointed to a lone figure walking up from the cabin. A black rifle bag was slung over his shoulder.

"If I were a betting woman, I'd say it is," Molly nodded.

He had to be around her age, with blue eyes and brown hair. He had a scruffy beard adorning the lower half of his face.

"You Barney Ross?" he asked, stopping before them. Barney stepped forward.

"I am. You're Billy Timmons," they shook hands.

"Yes, sir," Billy nodded once.

"Alright, show us what you've got."

* * *

He was good. He was _damn_ good. Even Molly looked impressed. But skill wasn't all you needed to hack it.

They had to make sure that Billy Timmons would be a good fit for the team, so they invited him back to Tool's for food and beer.

* * *

"He's good," Molly said slowly, watching as Billy interacted with the others.

As usual, she was in the back, making her quiet observations. Molly noticed a lot more than she ever let on. Nobody was more aware of the team dynamics than she was. This was the reason Barney was consulting with her.

"He fits in well with the others, he's respectful, he's a helluva shot..."

"But?" Barney pressed, never looking at her, keeping his eyes on the team the whole time. Molly took a deliberate drink of her beer.

"He's green, Ross," her words were blunt.

"He was in the military just as long as you, Booker," Barney was a little miffed that she was being so judgmental.

"I'm not talking about military experience, Ross, almost every man in this room has got that. Mercenary work is a whole different ball game," her voice was sharp, "And he's never been through that shit. There's no government to back you up, and if you die, your family doesn't get your medals or a letter, saying how you died a hero."

"You saying you don't want him on the team?" It had to be unanimous. There couldn't be any sort of dissent amongst them on a mission.

"I didn't say that. I'm saying that Billy's got a romanticized idea of what being a mercenary is like, and I don't know how well he'll cope when we're in the field," Molly turned icy eyes onto him.

_Personal experience, Booker?_ Barney didn't say that, though.

"Not everybody's as cynical as you are, Booker," he didn't shy away from her gaze.

* * *

"We'll get back to you in the morning," Barney told the young man. Billy nodded and shook his hand firmly.

"Yes, sir. Thank you. It was nice meeting everybody," he offered the team a smile.

After he left, Barney turned to the team.

"Thoughts?" he asked.

"He's a good kid," Gunnar spoke up.

"That's not in question, Gunnar. Does he have what it takes to handle this mission? Booker's worried he's too green."

"He's seen hell," Christmas stated, "he'll do fine. He's got my vote."

Barney's eyes shifted over his team members. They all nodded their assent. Then, only Molly was left. Her lips were pursed in contemplation.

"I think...that he'll do fine."

Barney nodded once.

"Good. We'll get him back here tomorrow morning, fly out in the evening. Everybody get some sleep."


	5. The Colombia Job

"Hey, Molls, want a doughnut?" Tool offered when she walked into the shop at seven-thirty. Her dark eyes were bright.

"Naw, thanks, Tool," she shook her head.

"You're up early," Barney noted.

"I thought we had a mission to plan?" she sassed. Barney rolled his eyes and slid a pad of paper over to her.

"Be a _doll_, Booker, and draw a bird's eye view of the compound," he said sarcastically. Molly just grinned and picked up the paper.

She had finished the ink drawing by the time the rest of the team had filed into the shop. Billy was the last to arrive.

"Alright, glad that everybody's here. Billy, we've all talked it over, and we'd like to have you with us," Barney said simply. A broad grin found its way to Billy's face.

"Thank you, sir, I won't let you down," he promised, shaking Barney's hand.

"Alright, Booker, if you would?" Barney stepped aside. Molly put the paper down on the table.

"So, we park the plane here, it's a two hour hike through the jungle to get to the valley that the compound is in. I took down coordinates when we did recon. They've got entrances on this side and this side. Billy and Gunnar will set up on this side at a 150 degree angle, making them cluster behind the compound. At the angle, they'll have maybe six feet to hide in," Molly made Xs in the intended spots. Barney stepped up.

"Yang will be on the opposite side of the valley, watching for any sort of backup. The rest of us will go in and find the Senator's son. Once we're out, Yang will head back to the plane on the shortest route and start it up. Booker, you'll take the Senator's son and meet up with Billy and Gunnar. The rest of us will split up and lead them away. We'll all meet back at the plane. Got it?" Barney finished.

They all nodded.

"Alright, we'll fly out at 2100 hours. Booker, you all packed?"

"I've got my bag in my truck," she shrugged.

"Help the kid pack up, then."

* * *

"How long have you been with the team?" Billy was far too chatty for Molly's liking. They were in his apartment, sorting through all his tactical gear.

"Two years," her answers were clipped, "You got a radio?" Billy shook his head no. "That's fine, Ross has got a shit load at the hangar. You're all set, kid," Molly rose. "Come on, I've gotta go home and change before we head out."

* * *

Billy stood awkwardly in Molly's living room while she ambled about her bedroom. She had replaced her olive fatigues for woodland camo ones. She wore a black t-shirt tucked in. Over her shoulder was a tactical vest and a belt of ammo. Her sidearm was tucked neatly into the holster on her hip.

"You ready, kid?" she asked darkly.

* * *

Billy felt very nervous as he watched them all gear up. Molly was tucking her tightly braided hair under her camo hat and blousing her pants.

"You ok, kid?" Christmas came and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah," Billy didn't sound so sure, though.

"You'll be fine."

* * *

Billy waited for the rest of the Expendables to take their seats in the plane before he did. He didn't want to step on anybody's toes. Barney and Christmas sat in the cockpit, and the others took the bench seats close to the front. Molly, however, was farther away, going over everything in her bag. Billy took a seat across from her.

She glanced up and he smiled at her. Molly tried to smile back, but it came out as more of a grimace.

* * *

They landed in Colombia at five o'clock in the morning. Toll Road nudged Molly awake with his boot as Barney went into the descent. She pulled on her tactical vest and tightened up her boot laces.

"You'll wanna eat something," she tossed a protein bar at Billy. He opened it with shaky fingers as the plane jolted onto the ground.

"Booker, you wanna take point?" Barney asked. Molly slung her Thompson over her shoulder and made her her med kit was closed tightly.

"Sure thing, Ross," she gave him a loose salute.

So, they followed Molly Booker through the dark jungle. She had a glow ring on the back of her pack, so they never lost her.

The sun was just barely visible on the horizon when they came to the valley.

"Alright, everybody know the plan?" Barney asked as they turned on their radios. "Good. Gunnar, Kid, get up into position. Start firing on my count."

So, as Billy and Gunnar made their way up, the rest of the team went down into the village.

* * *

"Ready?" Barney asked.

"Affirmative," Billy answered.

"You got it, Barney," Gunnar replied. Barney glanced back at the team. They all nodded to him. Molly's hands tightened around her gun.

"Start shooting."

Shots started going off and surprised cries could be heard from the compound.

"They're clustering, sir," Billy said over the comm.

"Let's go," Barney led the way.

* * *

Sweat was pouring off Molly as she went down the hallways, clearing rooms. A man stepped out from behind a corner, gun raised. She squeezed the trigger and watched him jerk before crumpling.

"Anybody find him?" Barney's voice crackled in her ear. Molly cautiously peered into the next room. A young man was bound and gagged in the corner of the room.

"I've got him, Ross," she said, striding forward. The man flinched away from her hands as she pulled his blindfold off.

"Jason Elwes?" she asked. He nodded.

"Your father sent us. What was the name of your first pet?" she asked, untying him. It would do them no good to get back to the plane with the wrong man.

"Skippy," his voice was hoarse. Molly let out a breath of relief.

"Alright. Can you stand?"

He nodded limply. Molly ended up supporting most of his weight through the compound. She couldn't carry him and her gun, so she had her pistol out.

"Making my way out, Ross," she said.

"Got it. Everybody get ready to retreat," Barney said.

* * *

Molly had been dragging the senator's son along for about twenty minutes when Gunnar and Billy met up with her. Gunnar immediately took over Jason Elwes' weight.

"Thanks, Jensen," she smiled.

The silence of their trek was only broken by the distant popping of guns.

They were just about home free when a gun went off behind them. Molly lurched forward. Billy caught her elbow.

"You ok?!"

"Get back to the plane! It's fifty more meters, just through those trees. I'll handle it!" she shouted over the gunfire.

Molly turned and squeezed her trigger, spraying bullets in the direction they'd just came from. She turned and ran when her clip ran out. Her hands shook with adrenaline as she dug in her pocket for a full clip.

She emptied that out, too.

The team was shouting at her when she broke through the trees. Gunnar hauled her into the plane as it started to creep along.

Molly laid there on the floor of the plane as Caesar fired out of the door at the cartel members that had pursued them. All she could hear was the pounding of her blood and her deep, shaky breaths.

Somebody rolled her over. It was Billy. His face was tight with worry.

"How bad are you hit?" his voice sounded strangely distant. Molly blinked once, twice.

"I'm fine," her own voice sounded odd to her ears.

"She hit?!" Barney yelled from the cockpit.

"Back of the shoulder. Didn't hit an artery," Billy heaved her into a sitting position with the straps of her tactical vest.

"Booker, how bad is it?" Barney turned in his seat to look at her.

"I'm fine. It can wait until we get back home," she shook off the dizziness. "Senator's son needs an IV drip. He lost a lot of fluids," she said.

"Kid, wrap some gauze around her so she doesn't bleed out," Barney ordered. Billy helped her take off the tactical vest and cut through the sleeve of her shirt.

He dug through her med kit until he found the bandages. Billy tied it snugly around her bleeding shoulder.

Molly dropped into the seat next to the senator's sun and slid his sleeve up. She wiped an alcohol swab in the crook of his elbow and slid the needle in. She hooked the drip onto the rails above his head before stumbling back to her normal seat.

Billy watched as she fearlessly inserted the IV needle into her own arm and hooked up a plasma drip. Her hands shook.

"Drink it, Booker," Yang offered her a bottle of soda and wrapped a wool blanket around her shoulders. "You don't want to go into shock."

"I think I'm past that point, Yang," her voice shook as she shivered.

"Tell me what to do. I will get bullet out," he offered. She grinned weakly, shaking her head.

"No offense, hon, but I'd rather Tool did it."

"You think you can hold out that long, Booker?" Toll asked sternly.

"It's eight hours. I'm not going to bleed out," she flexed her shaking hands.

"I'll drop you all off at the hangar. Get her to Tool's _immediately_," Barney barked from the cockpit.

Molly dozed against Billy the whole trip back. Gunnar carried her off the plane when Barney landed.

"Go with 'em," Barney ordered Christmas, "tell Hale he's coming with me. I've gotta take the senator's son to Arizona. Call me with the verdict."

* * *

Tool was ready for them when they got back to the shop. Molly was pale as Gunnar sat her down on a chair. She straddled it backwards.

"How are you, gorgeous?" Tool asked, already cutting her shirt away. She chuckled darkly.

"I've been better, Tool," she admitted.

"Senator's son ok?" he asked, disinfecting the area. The skin was inflamed, so infection had set in.

"He'll live," she hissed as he began to probe around the bullet hole.

* * *

"How's Booker?" Barney answered the phone immediately.

"She's resting. She lost more blood than she let on. Tool says she'll live," Christmas assured the leader.

"Everybody else ok?" Barney asked.

"Yeah. Bumps and bruises," Christmas stated. Barney let out a low breath of relief.

"Alright. Thanks, Lee."

* * *

The scene that greeted Barney and Hale when they returned around midnight was not unexpected. The team had set up camp in the back of Tool's.

Molly was on a cot, wearing a loose tank top. The stark white of her bandage was easy to see in the semi darkness. Gunnar's feet dangled off the too small couch. The rest of them were in sleeping bags.

The tension left Barney,

His team was alive. They'd survived another mission.


	6. Antibiotics and an Unwanted Invitation

**A/N: Thanks to MiniCinnamon99 and Mopargirl1 for their reviews :) I know this is a short chapter, but it is necessary to the plot.**

* * *

"Nice tat," Barney noted as Molly stirred. She looked at him blearily.

"What time is it?" she asked groggily.

"0800. How ya feelin'?" Barney asked. Molly sat up and winced, her hand going back to feel the bandage.

"Like I got hit by a truck," she said honestly.

"Tool do that flower for you?" Barney asked, his eyes still on her opposite shoulder. A small lily was tattooed there. Molly didn't seem like the kind of girl to get a _flower_ tattoo.

Her tank top also made visible some cursive words on the underside of her bicep and over her heart. Barney couldn't make out the ones under her arm, but the one over her heart was clear. 'Steadfast.'

"Naw. I got it when I was eighteen. My Ma's name was Lillie," she said, pulling the IV out of her arm.

Barney tilted his head at her.

"You were hurt worse than you let on," he stated, "Tool had to pump you full of antibiotics to clear out the infection." She smiled mirthlessly and shrugged.

"We had other problems. Senator pay you yet?" Molly wondered.

"You do that again, Booker, and I'll bench you. We're your team. I know you like to keep your distance because of something that happened in Iraq, but when you're hurt that bad, you better damn well say something. Am I clear?" Barney asked sternly.

"Yes, sir," Molly lowered her head.

"Good. Come on, I'll take you home."

* * *

Barney stayed at her house long enough for her to shower. He didn't want her collapsing.

"Give us a call sometime today so I know you're not dead," Barney told her before leaving. Molly gave him a loose salute.

"You got it, boss."

"Where is she?!" Tool squawked at him when he entered the shop.

"Fairies must have taken her," Barney said simply. Tool scowled at his friend. "I took her home. She's supposed to check in."

Before Tool could respond, Barney's phone started ringing.

"Ross," he answered. His face got grim as he listened to the speaker. Questioning looks greeted him when he hung up.

"Senator is coming to town next week. Wanted to invite us to some garden party. His son wants to thank us."


	7. A Magnificent Garden Party!

**A/N: The title is inspired by the immortal words of Capt. Jack Sparrow, "We shall have a magnificent garden party, and you're not invited!" Many thanks for the reviews and follows!  
**

* * *

"Where's Booker?" Barney demanded, tugging impatiently at his white dress shirt. After much grumbling and cajoling, he had managed to convince Toll and Booker to come with him to the Senator's party.

Caesar, Gunnar, and Yang had refused and said they were going to pick up their flavors of the week at the bar. Christmas had seemed apologetic when he had to refuse because of Lacey.

"What do you _wear_ to a garden party? Daisy Dukes and a t shirt?" Molly had asked disgustedly.

"I think it's a little more high class than that," Toll had responded dryly.

Tool rolled his eyes at the two dressed up mercenaries.

"She was running late. Something about her 'damn dress,' she said she'd meet you there," Tool assured them.

Barney sighed heavily.

"Come on, Toll, let's go make our appearance so we can come back and watch the game."

* * *

"Barney, Ross, it's good to see you!" Senator Elwes shook Barney's hand firmly, "your medic, Miss Booker, is over near the pond with Jason. I think he's developed something akin to hero worship for her," the man said conspiratorially.

Toll coughed to disguise his laughter.

"Thanks, Senator," Barney brushed past the man.

Sure enough, Jason Elwes was standing by the crystalline blue pond with a young woman next to him.

As if feeling their gaze, Molly turned. Barney had to blink a few times to make sure that it was actually her.

The Molly Booker he knew would never be caught dead in a floral print dress with her hair twisted into such an intricate braid.

Then she scowled in annoyance and he knew it was actually her. She said something to Jason Elwes before heading towards them.

Her dress was light blue with short sleeves and a a button up bodice. It clung to curves Barney hadn't realized she'd had. The neckline plunged just enough for him to see the outer edge of her 'Steadfast' tattoo. The skirt flared out at her hips and swished along her toned legs as she moved. Barney had to grin when he saw her cowboy boots.

Molly surprised him with a brief hug.

"Please tell me you brought me a gun," she hissed in his ear. She was smiling warmly when she pulled away, though.

"What, no place to hide one in that get-up?" he knew he shouldn't tease her, but she just look so miserable, he couldn't help it.

She grimaced.

"If I have to hear one more story about the shenanigans he and his law school buddies get up to-" she stopped when Jason Elwes ambled up.

"Molly, dear, please introduce me to your friends," he crooned, looking only at her. Barney saw a muscle jump in her jaw.

"This is Barney Ross and Toll Road," she ground out. Jason Elwes shook their hands firmly, smiling pleasantly.

"I was just telling Molly how much I appreciate you all coming to my rescue."

"It was a job. We got paid," Toll said bluntly. Jason Elwes paused and Molly ducked her head to hide her smile.

"Yes, well, Mr. Ross, I know my father was wanting to speak with you about another job," Jason Elwes said swiftly.

Another young man appeared at Molly's elbow. He shared Jason's pointed features and blonde hair.

"Miss Booker, I believe you promised me a dance," he said, pulling her away. Molly twisted and sent Barney a helpless look. He just shrugged. What was he supposed to do?

"Ah, my brother, Daniel," Jason waved it off.

* * *

"Another job?" Toll muttered, barely moving his lips as Molly was forced to dance another waltz with Jason Elwes.

"Yeah, stateside, training up his security guards. He's been getting a few death threats. He wants four guys. 30 k per man. We'd have to fly out to Arizona," Barney said under his breath. Toll made a noise of acknowledgment in the back of his throat.

"Think we should rescue her, yet?" he wondered idly.

"Give her one more song," Barney smirked. Molly's ankle twisted out and she let out a yelp as she fell right on her ass.

Her face got very red as people clamored about her.

"Booker, you alright?" Toll hurried forward. Barney was much slower in his approach, knowing she had something up her sleeve.

"It's just a sprain. Toll, would you take me home, please?" she asked weakly. Barney fought the grin that was trying to force its way onto his lips.

Barney and Toll made a show of helping her limp out to her truck. When they were well out of sight of the party goers, she pulled away from them.

"As White Knights, you guys suck," she said, pulling her boots off so she could walk easier on the uneven ground.

"You're ok!" Toll frowned.

"Don't look so hurt, Toll, Jason Elwes' hand was dangerously close to my ass. I couldn't very well break his finger in front of all those witnesses," she wrenched open her truck door.

"Meet us at Tool's, Booker, we've got a job to go over," Barney called. She nodded to show she'd heard.

* * *

Tool let out a wolf whistle when she entered the shop.

"Nice dress, hot stuff!" Tool winked at her. Molly rolled her eyes as she dropped into a chair next to Billy.

"All the buttons busted off as I was walking out the door. I had to sew 'em back on in my driveway," she complained.

"How's that bullet hole?" Tool ambled around behind her. Molly unbuttoned her shirt and slid her arm out from the sleeve.

"Stitches need to come out," she said, "Eyes forward, Kid."

Billy went pink and lowered his eyes, trying not to stare at her in her bra.

"We've got another job offer from the Senator," Barney took their attention, "He wants four of us to go and train up his security guards out in Arizona. It's a three week job, 30 K per man. Who's in?"

"Arizona's _hot_, Barney," Gunnar shook his head.

"Lacey'll kill me if I go on another job so soon," Christmas said apologetically. Barney shifted his eyes to Caesar and Toll. They shook their heads.

"I'll go, if you'll have me," Billy volunteered.

"I need money for my family," Yang agreed. Barney cocked a brow at his medic. She was buttoning her dress back up. She had pulled the pins from her hair and untangled it from the braid.

"You really think you'll need a medic? Because if it means I'll be cooped up with the Senator's son, then I'm staying home," she said disgustedly.

"No. You'll be doing PT. Minimal contact if there's any," Barney assured her.

"What've you got against the Senator's son?" Caesar asked curiously. Molly sunk back in her seat, sulking.

"He's infatuated with her," Toll said wisely. Pink blossomed on her cheeks at the jeering laughs that arose.

"I think we should be expecting a happy announcement any day now," Barney added. Molly lifted her middle finger at him.

"And she pretended to sprain her ankle so we could leave early," Toll added.

"It worked!" Molly protested.

Laughter was her only answer.


	8. Hands to Yourself

**A/N: Seriously, y'all are just awesome. **

* * *

Molly's shoulder twinged with pain as she watched the security guards toil in the midday sun.

It didn't cool down in the evenings. The temperature ran north of one hundred degrees every day. For a girl who grew up in the Appalachians, it was torture.

"Billy knows how to handle himself, huh?" Barney's voice came from behind her. Molly turned and raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose," she said, picking at her fingernails.

"I was thinkin' about offering him a permanent place on the team."

Molly's expression didn't change as she shifted her dark eyes back out to where Billy was explaining how to pick out snipers.

"That's your prerogative," she shrugged.

"Come on, Booker, you know I don't run my team like that," sometimes, she irked Barney to no end with her cryptic responses. "I wanna know what you think of him."

Molly blew out a long breath.

"He's good at his job, he's respectful, come on, Barney, I told you this already," she complained to him.

"Give me something new," Barney challenged. She narrowed her eyes.

"He's six foot three. He's got a girlfriend in France. She was a nurse. He's trying to save up enough to start a life with her. His parents are dead, he has no other family-"

"Booker, I could have had Tool give me those facts!" Barney was getting impatient. Was it so hard to give her opinion?

"Where do ya think I got 'em from?" her eyes crinkled in amusement. Barney rolled his eyes. "Billy's good. He's a little naïve, but give him a few more missions and he'll be as just as jaded as the rest of us," Molly drawled. Barney shook his head.

"Ready for 'em, Booker?" Yang asked asked approaching the canopy. His cheeks were sunburned. Molly had gotten burned, too, the first few days, but it soon faded into a deep tan.

"Yep." She strode out of the shade, heading towards Billy. They had been given full reign of an old, unused Air Force training base out in the middle of Arizona.

For the last week and a half, Barney and Yang had been going over tactical maneuvers and hand-to-hand with the Senator's security guards, and in between, Molly and Billy would do PT.

"Alright, boys! Pair up!" she shouted.

Barney smiled from the shade as he guzzled another bottle of water. In another life, Booker would have made a hell of a drill sergeant. "One of you will get down in a push up position, the other will lay back to back, holding on to the shirt sleeves. Billy, if you would."

The sniper did as she bad. Molly winced as she laid down on his back, reached her hands back to hold onto his shirt sleeves. Billy started crawling forward.

"You will crawl to the line and then switch positions. Your knees may _not_ touch the ground!" she warned, getting off and offering him a hand up.

"Where do you suppose she learned this shit?" Barney asked Yang.

He shrugged.

"Hey, Booker?!" he shouted in his accented voice. She turned around to look at them. "Where'd you learn this shit?!"

Even from a distance, they could see her grin.

"Some football movie!"

Many of the men groaned. She rounded on them.

"If your knees touch the ground, you will stand up and walk back to the beginning and start over!" she shouted.

"Well, Mr. Ross, your medic is a rather good trainer," a smooth voice complimented. Barney whirled around to see Senator Elwes, Jason at his elbow. "I do apologize for the surprise, but I wanted to check in on my men."

"They're shaping up nicely, Senator," Yang said, squaring his stance.

"I would appreciate it if you would all join me for supper tonight," Senator Elwes said smoothly.

"That's nice, Senator, but we're here to do a job-" Barney started.

"Oh, come now, Mr. Ross, give them a night off. You've been at this for a week and a half already."

Barney and Yang shared a look. There was no way out of this.

Molly was going to be _pissed_.

* * *

"Alright, boys, you've got the night off, but, if you are not back in time for morning muster, I will put my boot so far up your ass, you will be puking leather for weeks!" Molly stated, pacing before the men. "Fall out!"

She walked to the dorm she shared with her team. They were already showered and dressed. Molly grabbed a wad of clothes and her towel, but not before giving Barney a glare.

* * *

They were all wearing their jeans and t-shirts. Those were the only clothes they had with them that weren't fatigues.

A car came to pick them up. The ride was silent. Barney watched as Molly got paler and paler the closer they got to the Senator's mansion.

Why was she so leery of this? He had watched her floor men twice her size, stitch up arteries, and shoot somebody at point blank without even blinking. What made her so scared of Jason Elwes?

* * *

"Mr. Ross! I'm glad you could join us!" Senator Elwes said jovially. Barney forced himself to smile politely.

"Thanks for the invite, Senator," he shook the man's hand.

"Shall we eat?"

They were shown to a large dining room. Mrs. Elwes and her two sons, Jason and Daniel, were setting the table.

"You must be the angel my son has spoken so fondly of!" Mrs. Elwes greeted Molly with a peck on the cheek.

"Uh, it's nice to meet you, Mrs. Elwes," Molly shuffled her feet.

Molly was seated across from Billy and in between the two Elwes boys. Mrs. Elwes was at the end of the table, between Billy and Daniel. Barney and Yang were at the other end with Senator Elwes.

"So, Molly, how did you end up in the mercenary business?" Mrs. Elwes asked cheerily. Molly's face lost all of its color as her three teammates stiffened. You didn't _ask_ those sort of questions, damn it! Where were this woman's boundaries?!

"I was, uh, a lieutenant in the Airborne, as a medic," Molly's voice was quiet. She took a long drink of water. Mrs. Elwes nodded understandingly.

"I bet you saw a lot a haunting stuff over there."

Molly's dark eyes were looking around helplessly. They met Barney's.

The Italian man coughed loudly.

"When do you have to go back to D.C., Senator?"

Molly lowered her eyes to her supper plate. She felt a pressure on her foot. Her eyes snapped up. If Jason Elwes was trying to get fresh with her-

Billy offered her a small smile and her grip on the salad fork loosened dramatically. It wasn't Jason playing footsie, it was Billy, trying to console her.

* * *

By the time the first course came around, Molly was about ready to gouge out Jason's eyes with the soup spoon.

"-And we're going hunting in Africa next summer," he finished smugly, "have you ever been to Africa, Molly?"

Before she was forced to answer, Billy broke in.

"I was there on leave once." That, of course, made Mrs. Elwes gush over how _pleased_ she was to have _two _American heroes at her table. Molly offered Billy a half smile. His blue eyes sparkled.

Neither of them noticed Barney observing their interaction.

* * *

That how the rest of supper progressed, the Expendables acting as buffers for each other. It was all fine and dandy until dessert, when Daniel spilled his white wine onto Molly's lap.

Jason had been prepared with a napkin. Before his hand could even touch Molly's leg, though, she had him in a wrist lock.

"Christ! I'm only trying to help!" Jason's voice was an octave higher.

"Booker!" Barney barked. Her dark eyes snapped to his. He knew that vacant stare. She was a million miles away. Her hand released Jason's wrist and he clutched it to his chest.

"It's been a long day," was what Yang offered.

* * *

"What the hell, Booker?! You nearly cost us the job!" Barney fumed at her once they were safely back at their training base. She refused to look at him as she strode into the dorm. Barney caught her arm.

Molly whirled, yanking her wrist back and sinking into a back stance. Barney realized how ready for a fight she actually was. Her chest rose and fell quickly.

"Look, his son's a mittsy prick, I get it-"

"You don't, Ross, you _really_ don't," she spat, her eyes blazing. Barney held his hands up in surrender.

"Alright. Fine. Take a walk, cool off, get some rest," was all he said.


	9. Doctor Jack Daniels

**A/N: Seriously, guys, you are just swell! Your reviews made me so happy!**

* * *

The next morning found Molly scrubbing her jeans in the mess hall sink, trying to get the wine stain out.

"Everybody accounted for?" Barney asked, referring to the security guards. She nodded once. Judging by the bruises around her eyes, she hadn't gotten any sleep last night. "You got anything you wanna talk about?" he pressed. She lifted her dark eyes. In that moment, she looked like she had the world caving in on her.

"No."

Barney nodded once. God, he wanted to ask her. He wanted to know who had hurt her, what had happened to her unit in Iraq.

The wound was still too fresh, though, he knew that. It was too raw for her to think about.

* * *

They finished the job out in relative peace. Molly's wrist lock seemed to have scared off Jason Elwes, because no more dinner invitations came.

She looked like hell, though, when they landed back in New Orleans. Barney knew she hadn't slept more than an hour a night for the last week.

"Welcome back!" Tool enthused when they arrived back at his shop. Molly didn't respond. She just threw her bag in the back of her truck.

Tool glanced curiously at Barney. The leader just shook his head.

"I'm heading home, Ross," she said soberly.

"You wanna go check on her, or should I?" Tool asked the next morning. Molly had been weighing on Barney's mind.

"I'll do it," he was the leader, it was his duty. Tool caught his arm, his face uncharacteristically serious.

"Go easy, brother...Molly...Well, she ain't had it easy."

"You know," Barney cocked a brow at him. Tool pressed his lips into a thin line.

"It ain't my story to tell, Barney."

* * *

Molly answered the door in a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top that was a size too small. Barney could see the 'Steadfast' tattoo over her heart clearly. A half empty bottle of Jack hung limply in her hand. Her hair tumbled down her back in an unruly mess.

"Yeah?" Oh, yes, she was definitely drunk, he could tell by the belligerence in her tone.

"I thought you didn't like to get drunk," Barney folded his arms over his chest. She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Are you here to lecture me, O Fearless Leader? Because that's awful hypocritical. You get three sheets to the wind every time we get back from a mission," she snapped.

"I was worried. You haven't been the same since dinner with the Senator," Barney said evenly, keeping his temper in check. Getting in a fight with a drunk Molly wouldn't solve any problems.

"Well, don't you worry, Ross, I've been pacing myself. Now, if that's all, I'd like to get back to my mind numbing alcohol," she started to close the door, but he slid his foot over the threshold, using it as a doorstop.

"You've got a lot of emotional baggage, Molly. There's nothing wrong with that, but you haven't dealt with it. It nearly cost us the job-"

"I know how to do my job, Barney Ross," she ground out, not appreciating the invasion.

"I'm not saying you can't, I'm just saying that there can't be a repeat performance. I know you like your space and distance, and I'll try to handle the rest of the dealings on my own, but I can't make any promises."

A muscle in Molly's jaw twitched.

"I know you're damn good at your job, Booker, and that's not in question, but you're wound as tight as a spring. Do you understand?" Barney wasn't good with this touchy-feely crap, but he'd ruffled her feathers. And it wasn't a good idea to get on the medic's bad side.

"Resolve any PTSD you may still have over Iraq and a psychotic ex boyfriend. Got it, boss," she said icily.

"Booker, I'm here. Tool's here. If you ever need-"

"Thanks, Ross, but I can deal with it myself."


	10. Star Trek vs Star Wars

"Yeah?" Molly answered her phone with a pounding headache.

"You sound like hell," Christmas noted.

"Thanks. What do you want?"

"So polite. They're having a Star Wars marathon at Hale's. You up for it?" he asked bluntly. Molly thought for a moment.

"You're talking about episodes four through six, right? Not one through three?" she asked, just to clarify.

"Yeah."

"I'll be there. Just text me the address," she said.

"Got it."

* * *

Molly took a cold shower, trying to clear up her headache. She dressed in baggy jeans and a loose tank top, leaving her hair down to dry.

Caesar's house was relatively easy to find. Six motorcycles were parked in his driveway.

Molly shook her head, smiling as she put her truck in park at the curb.

The team cheered when she made her entrance. She tried not to wince as the sound bounced around her head.

She was immediately pulled down to sit between Gunnar and Billy. A large bowl of popcorn was settled in her lap.

"You all ready for this?" Caesar asked in his ringing voice as Billy pulled handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"Play the damn movie, Hale, you've been talking about it for the last half hour," Toll complained.

* * *

Molly was comfortably warm, squeezed between the Swedish giant and Billy. Sleep was pulling at her eyes by the time the credits rolled.

She got up and stretched her legs while they put in the next one.

"Who inked you up, Booker?" Caesar wondered as she took the empty popcorn bowl to the kitchen.

"Which one?" she asked.

He brushed his finger over his chest, indicating her 'Steadfast.'

"I got this on leave, in London. One of the guys in my unit, Dive, he convinced us all to get them," she admitted.

"What's it say on your arm?" Barney asked, decided that he would push his luck, since she was answering Caesar's questions.

"'These are the times that try men's souls.' It's a quote by Thomas Paine. My granddad would always repeat it to me when I was growing up. I got it when I came back Stateside," she said, dropping back into her seat.

"Got anything else?" Tool leered playfully. Molly rolled her eyes.

"Maybe, maybe not, you'll never know," she said flippantly. They all laughed at the snub.

Barney was glad to see her laughing with the team. The bruises over her eyes were less noticeable, and it looked like the alcohol had at least given her a good night's sleep.

* * *

The credits had just rolled for the last movie and they were trying to cajole her into staying for episodes one through three.

"I don't blame her, Star Trek is _way_ better," Toll spoke up. Outrage met that statement.

"Bull_shit_!" Caesar disagreed vehemently, "Star Wars has _substance_, man!"

"Yeah, and incest," Toll added. That earned him laughs. Barney looked over to Molly. She had gotten very pale.

* * *

_"G__ome on, Gomez, Star Wars is way more awesome than Star Trek!" Dive protested as they made their way down the trail. _

_ Patrols walked here every day. "B__ack me up, Moll!" the dark haired man looked over his shoulder for support from the woman. _

_"I'__ve never watched Star Trek," she admitted apologetically. _

_"W__hich makes you a Star Wars fan by default!" Dive threw his arm around her. She threw her head back and laughed at his antics. _

_"N__ow, hold on! You'll bias her! When we get back stateside, LT, we'll watch it," Gomez said firmly. _

_"W__ill you three shut up!" Davies turned around and snapped at them. Frank Davies was always grumpy and had almost no tolerance for Gomez and Dive. _

_"R__e_lax_, Franklin, this area's been clear for-" Gomez's words were cut off by gunfire. Dive threw his arm around Molly's chest and took her down to the ground. _

_"G__et down! Molly! Molly!" he shook her shoulder hard. _

"-Molly!" Tool snapped his fingers in front of her face and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "You with us, beautiful?" his face was concerned. Molly swallowed hard.

"I need to get home," she said abruptly, brushing past him and exiting the house. Her vision blurred with tears as she stumbled out to her truck.

She managed to drive out of the neighborhood before she pulled over and began to cry. Awful, chest wracking sobs shook her body as she bent over the steering wheel.

It was the first time she had cried since joining the Expendables.


	11. Crazy Eights and Hemingway

Molly groaned as she sat down and began unbraiding her hair. The plane rumbled beneath her as Barney started it up. They had spent all night lost in the damn rainforest with a storm raging around them.

It had been three weeks since she fled from Caesar's. She hadn't hung out with them since. The Ice Queen was back. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Barney.

"What, you don't like camping?" Gunnar leered at her.

"I don't like the possibility of pneumonia," she snapped back, wrapping her hairband around her braid. "And I hate getting caught in the rain."

Billy grinned at her as she settled in for the plane ride home.

* * *

"Come on, Booker, you _never_ come out with us!" Caesar tried to convince her as they milled about the hangar. "You're gonna hurt our feelings!"

Molly let out a bark of laughter at that.

"Heaven forbid your _feelings_ should get hurt," she said dryly.

"Come on, we survived another mission. You didn't get pneumonia-"

"That remains to be seen," she said, tossing her bag in her truck. Despite her words and sarcastic tone, there was mirth in her eyes.

"You know, boys, I think she's just scared she'll lose at pool," Gunnar spoke up. The rest of the Expendables 'Ooh'ed tauntingly.

"I probably would. I've never played a game of pool. But I could totally whup your ass at cards," she said honestly. Caesar threw an arm around her.

"What's your game, Booker? Texas Hold 'Em? Blackjack?"

"Crazy Eights," she smirked.

"Great, put your money where your mouth is. I'll buy ya a drink and we'll see about Crazy Eights!"

Molly sighed heavily.

"Fine. I suppose I have to teach you the error of your ways. You should never challenge a Booker to cards."

* * *

Molly showed up at the bar later on. All the dirt had been scrubbed from her skin and her hair was pinned back from her face.

She wore a knee length denim skirt and a form fitting t shirt. Pewter guitar earrings hung from her ears.

"Damn, I think you should dress up like a girl more often, Booker!" Caesar's had alcohol on his breath as he squeezed her into his side.

She elbowed him sharply in the diaphragm.

"Don't make me break your fingers, Caesar," she said sternly. He held up his hands in surrender, backing off.

"Let me buy ya a drink, beautiful, what's your poison?" Tool asked, coming up to her.

"Just a Coke, Tool," her eyes went a little darker.

"What, too good to drink with us?" Gunnar's voice was teasing.

"I've got a half an hour drive home, Jensen," she reproved.

* * *

The tension was running high at the Expendables' table. At first, it had been Billy, Molly, Caesar, Gunnar, and Tool playing the card game, but one by one, they'd dropped out.

Now it was down to Molly and Caesar. Caesar had two cards left and Molly had one. Caesar laid the King of Diamonds over the Kings of Clubs.

"Your move, Molly," he dared. With careful deliberation, she leaned forward and put her card down. It was an Eight of Hearts.

"Sorry, Hale," her smirk was utterly unapologetic, though. He swore and slammed his fist on the table.

"I could still kick your ass at pool!" he fumed.

"No argument there. I'm gonna head home. See you fellas later," she pressed two fingers to her brow in a loose salute.

"Do me a favor and take Kid home? He's stayed up past his bedtime," Barney gestured to a drunken Billy who was half heartedly debating Hemingway with a more sober Toll Road. Molly shook her head.

"Sure, boss," she ambled over to Billy. "Come on, Kid, it's time to go home," she pulled at him arm.

"Mol-Molly, just _tell_ him that Hemingway is too sad for high school!" Billy slurred, getting to his feet. He leaned heavily on her arm, his blue eyes fought to focus on her. Molly raised a brow and glanced at Toll.

"Hemingway was a sad guy, Billy," she agreed.

"I cried for _days_ after I read- What did I read?"

"A Farewell to Arms?" Toll supplied helpfully as he rose to help Molly shepherd Billy out to her truck.

"Yes!"

"I'll take care of his bike," Toll assured her as she buckled Billy into her passenger seat.

"Much obliged. Tell Ross he owes me," she said dryly.

Molly drove Billy home, getting an earful about all the _sad_ books he'd ever read. He was talking about Marley & Me when Molly guided him up the front steps of his apartment.

"Where're your keys, Billy?" she asked patiently. He patted his pockets slowly and pulled a keyring out. She snatched it out of his hands and unlocked the door. Molly pulled him into his apartment and into the bedroom.

When she pushed him to his bed, he pulled her with him.

"Billy, I'll break your fingers if you don't let go," she warned, pushing her arms between them.

"I miss my Sophia," he confessed as Molly sat up. "She's in France, you know. God, I don't know what made her look twice at me, Molly."

She got up and pulled his gym shoes off.

"You're a good guy, Kid," she told him bluntly, "and as much as girls chase after the bad boys, they end up settling down with the good boys."

"You're a nice girl, Molly, as much as you try to hide away from everybody. You're a big softie...But me, I've killed men, Molly, for money, for my country. Killers shouldn't be happy."

"You're heading down a dangerous rabbit trail, Kid, quit while you're ahead," she advised grimly.

"Does it ever bother you?" he should have been too drunk to be asking such serious questions. Molly wanted to force herself to walk out of the apartment, to go home and get drunk, but she couldn't.

"Does what?" her voice was schooled.

"That you've killed people?"

"My squad was killed, Billy, by bad men. Ever since that day, I've killed bad men. I guess I figure that one day, I'll get around to the bad men responsible for their deaths," Molly glanced at Billy, but his eyes were closed. He had passed out.

"Too damn typical, Booker. You try to have a heart to heart with a drunk," she muttered to herself as she got up to leave.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Stay tuned, things start speeding up in the next chapter!**


	12. An Unexpected Party

Molly woke sometime in the wee hours of morning. A loud creak had come from her living room. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she pulled the gun from between her mattress and headboard. She flipped the safety off and slid out of bed carefully.

She heard the loose board in her hallway let out a squeak. Molly blew out a long breath and took up a position on the side of her wardrobe. It offered maximum cover and she had a clear shot at whomever came through her door.

Her bedroom door swung open noisily and a black clad figure took a step in.

Molly shot him and his brain matter sprayed all over the blue of her bedroom walls. Nobody else came in, but she heard the whispered oath.

"Morning, boys," she called, never loosening her grip on the gun.

"Put down your gun, Lieutenant Booker!"

Molly fired a shot through her half open bedroom door, blowing a hole in the wood. There were more swears.

"Come and take it, ya sorry bastard!"

She recoiled behind her wardrobe as bullets peppered her room. She could smell the gunpowder as the shots died down.

"Lieutenant?" the man called warily. She answered with another shot. A loud curse came from the hall. Molly squeezed off three more rounds.

"Put down your gun or we'll have to use lethal force!"

Molly allowed herself a smirk. These guys weren't professionals, not really.

"What say you put down yours and tell me what this is about?" she suggested pleasantly. There was a long silence. Molly didn't think for a second that they had left.

"Lieutenant, don't make this any harder on yourself," the same voice warned. Molly rolled her eyes.

"I was discharged, hon, I'm not a lieutenant any more. Who sent you?"

"We're looking for John Booker. Call him and we'll leave you alone!"

"What do you want with John Booker?" Molly's eyes narrowed at the mention of her father.

"You don't need to involve yourself. Just tell us where we can find him!"

Molly laughed derisively. How dense was this guy?!

"He's my Dad. I'd say I'm pretty involved. How's about you tell me who sent you to find him and I won't kill you."

Hot pain erupted in her shoulder. She felt it as the gun shot stopped ringing in her ears. Molly sucked in a sharp breath and pressed her back to the wall.

Lowering her gun, she peeled the already bloody sleeve of her t-shirt up to assess the wound. It was merely a graze.

Before she could even make another move, her gun was being wrenched from her hand and a tall young man with blue eyes was squeezing her throat. Molly dug her thumb into the inside of his wrist and brought her knee up to his groin.

He groaned and slammed his fist into her solar plexus. The air was expelled from her lungs and the butt of a pistol was brought down hard on her temple.

* * *

Molly's vision was fuzzy when she regained consciousness. Her hands were bound tightly behind her. She had been moved to her living room and was laying on her side.

The left side of her face itched from the blood that had dripped down her brow and dried. With the sun streaming in through her windows, she could see the intruders clearly.

There were four. All were of medium height with cropped hair and tactical gear.

"Well, howdy, boys," she drawled, looking up at them. One with blonde hair stormed over and slammed his steel toed boot into her side.

Molly rolled over, a pained groan escaped from her throat.

"Enough!" The one who had been trying to reason with her last night pulled her attacker back. "You need to call John Booker," he ordered brusquely. Molly looked up into his icy blue eyes.

"Do I look like his secretary?" she snapped. The blonde one stepped forward and she braced herself for another blow that never came.

"Lieutenant Booker, if you do not cooperate, we have been authorized to use less than friendly persuasion tactics. Is that clear?"

"Go on, boys, bring on the thumb screws," she taunted.

* * *

"Are you going to call him!?" Blue Eyes screamed at her as her face was pulled out of the water. It had to be pushing noon. They had graduated from threats to pummeling, and they had moved to her kitchen about forty five minutes ago.

Her deep, stainless steel sink was filled with water. Her feet were spread apart and the vicious blonde, whose friend she had killed last night, was behind her, one hand wrapped in her curly hair.

When Blue Eyes would give the go ahead, Blondie would force her face into the water.

Molly knew not to panic, though. Panicking wasted her breath. She stayed calm, despite her burning lungs.

"Go f*ck yourself!" she snarled at him. Blue Eyes nodded and Blondie shoved her face back into the water.

Molly closed her eyes and counted the seconds, letting air out through her nose occasionally.

_Thirty...Thirty one...Thirty- _She opened her mouth and filled it with water just before Blondie yanked her up.

"Are you ready to call John Booker?" Blue Eyes demanded, calmer than before. Molly spat the water at him. His face got very red. "Drain the water," his voice was cold.

Molly was spun so her back was pressed against the edge of the counter. A loud grating noise filled her ears as the water was sucked down the drain.

She instinctively tried to get up, but Blondie pressed his arm against her throat. There was a sharp jerk on her head and fear wrapped its icy fingers around her heart.

Molly bit her lip to stop the scream that was fighting to rip from her throat. Her hair was being sucked down the garbage disposal.

She was bent so far into the sink that her toes barely touched the ground. The disposal gave another mechanical growl and she snapped.

"Ok! Ok! Christ! I'll call him!"

The garbage disposal was turned off and she let out a breath. A phone was thrust into her face. Molly scoffed. "Cut me loose. My Dad will know something's up if my head's halfway down the sink," she ordered breathlessly.

"Tell us the number first," Blue Eyes ordered, pulling a satellite phone out. Molly debated it for a moment, but then rattled off Barney's number. Blue Eyes nodded to Blondie. "Cut her loose."

Blondie pulled a lethal looking switch out of his pocket and pressed it onto her left brow. Molly did her best to muster a dark glare.

"Emerson..." Blue Eyes warned his comrade.

"She killed Hal!" Blondie spat, "We've got the number. We don't need her!"

"John Booker will never come if his daughter's dead. Mess up her face if you want, but don't kill her," Blue Eyes warned.

Blondie, or Emerson, pressed the knife harder into her skin. Molly felt hot blood welling up and dripping down onto her eyelid.

"How important is your eye to you, Lieutenant Booker?" Emerson leered, his breath hot on her face. Molly jerked her head to the side and brought her knee up into his groin. The knife missed her eye before digging back into her cheek, carving out a curved line to the corner of her jaw.

"You bitch!" Emerson spat as she blinked blood out of her eyes.

"Enough! Cut her loose so we can get Booker!" Blue Eyes barked.

Emerson sawed through her hair with his switch, being as rough as possible. Molly felt the blood rush from her head as she straightened. Her spine cracked painfully.

"You gonna hold the phone to my ear?" she jerked her head to her hands, still bound behind her back. Blue Eyes scowled.

"Go on, Emerson. Don't try anything, Lieutenant," Blue Eyes warned severely. Molly crossed her heart before taking the phone from him.

It rang a few times before Barney picked up.

"Booker?"

"Hey, Dad," she greeted cheerily.

"Booker, what the hell?" Barney demanded, confused.

"Oh, I'm fine, how are you?" she asked pleasantly. Barney let out a few, choice oaths at her.

"You've got three seconds to-"

"How's that job turning out?...Oh, you're almost done? Nice! Maybe we can get together and watch football when you get Stateside."

"Booker, what's going on?"

"I love you, too, Daddy, be safe," she simpered before hanging up. Before either of her captors could ask her anything, she slammed the phone into Blue Eye's head and pulled the knife from the sheath at his hip. She drove it right into Emerson's throat.

Blood sprayed on her face as Blue Eyes let out a shout. Molly pushed the knife up and under his ribs.

She had snatched up his sidearm by the time the other two invaders had arrived. She emptied the clip into their guts.

Mentally, she did a count. Yes, there had only been four, after she killed the first in her bedroom last night.

Molly dropped the now empty gun onto the linoleum of her floor and groaned. That would be five bodies to take care of.


	13. Clean Up and Cookies

"What's the matter?" Christmas demanded as Barney grabbed his gun.

"Booker just called. She was calling me 'dad.' Something's up. I'm going to check on her-" he was cut off by his phone ringing. The ID read 'M. Booker.' "What the hell is going on?!" he answered brusquely.

"Yeah, Ross, I need help moving some bodies. They roughed me up. I think they broke a few ribs. You think you can get Jensen and Caesar to come help?" she asked conversationally.

For the first time in his life, Barney Ross was speechless. Christmas made a curious face at him, obviously wanting to know what was happening.

"What happened?" Barney finally managed.

"Can we go over that when you get here? I need to stitch myself up before I bleed out on my carpet," Molly said flippantly.

"You want me to bring Tool?" Barney asked tensely.

"Nah, I'll have it done by the time you get here. Can you bring some bleach?"

"Uh, yeah."

* * *

The Expendables all pulled into her driveway at the same time. Barney was the first one through her open front door. The lock had been completely destroyed.

Now, Molly's house, the few times Barney had been there, was always tidy. Everything had a place.

This was not the case now. Her living room was in shambles and there was blood on the carpet. Four bodies were stacked in a pool of blood outside the kitchen. Molly came down the hallway, dragging another body.

Her once waist length curls had been sheared off jaggedly around her shoulders.

"Oh, good, you're here! Did you bring the bleach?" She turned around to look at them. Barney had to work to keep the shock off of his face.

Curving from her brow, miraculously skipping over her brown eye, down her cheek was a neatly stitched gash. "Yeah, yeah, they've f*cked up my aesthetic appeal. Now I'll have to depend on my feminine wiles to ensnare a husband. Bleach?" she asked impatiently.

"Jesus, Booker, did _you_ do this?" Christmas demanded, gesturing to the bodies.

"Well, my Knight in Shining Armor is on vacation," Molly said sarcastically.

"Are you ok?" Billy asked quietly. Molly stared at him for a brief moment, not saying anything.

"I'll live."

* * *

As the guys began to take the bodies outside, Barney insisted on looking her over. She had a laceration on her temple, a _lot _of bumps and bruises, and a possible concussion. Her ribs were only bruised, not cracked, like she'd thought. She had done a fine job stitching and bandaging up the graze in her arm and the gash on her face.

Barney grudgingly let her pitch in with the cleaning. Molly made a hell of a slave driver as she ordered the guys what to do.

"Just dig a pit in the back. I'll burn the bodies and evidence when it gets dark. Don't want the smoke to bring the Fire Department out," she said as she pulled up her bloodied carpet.

"You heard her," Barney agreed as he mopped up the blood in the kitchen. The guys didn't complain.

It only took a few hours for them to clean up the blood and carry all the evidence out to the pit that Caesar and Christmas had dug.

"Pack a bag, Booker," Barney told her as things were winding down.

"Aw, boss, we're gonna have a sleepover? Can I give you a manicure?!" she asked eagerly. Barney rolled his eyes and repressed the urge to cuff her.

Molly used sarcasm to cope and he would rather her mouth off than break down crying.

* * *

Barney saw it coming when she came down the hall, back pack over her shoulder. Her face got very pale quickly.

"Kid-" he started. Billy lurched forward to catch her around the waist as her knees buckled. Molly offered him a weak smile, her hand on the wall, trying to steady herself.

"I guess I'm not handling it as well as I thought," she said limply.

Her hands were shaking by the time they got to the hangar. Barney ordered her to sit down on the couch as he went to the kitchen to try and find something sugary for her.

When Barney returned with a pack of Chips Ahoy cookies, he found Billy sitting close to her. Their legs were pressed together. It almost made Barney want to smile, but then he remembered Billy's French fiance.

He tossed the cookies at Molly.

"Eat 'em. Who were they?"

"They weren't very professional. They were trying to get me to call my Dad. They knew I was a lieutenant," she said, gnawing on one of the cookies.

"What time did they come?" Barney asked.

"I dunno. Three, four AM. They knocked me out. I came to around eight," she shrugged and winced. Barney watched as she fisted her free hand in her lap, trying to control the shaking.

"You call your Dad yet?" Barney asked gravely.

"If I know Dad, he already knows that somebody's after him."

* * *

**A/N: Thank y'all so much for the follows and favorites and reviews! They made me happier than a fish with a French fry! :D**


	14. Hugs and Bullets

**A/N: Sorry this took me so long, fellas. I had a rough few days and I hated the way everything I wrote turned out. Anyways, thanks for the reviews! :)**

* * *

"You know, somehow, I think this is an unfair competition. My skills lie in holding organs in and stitching up bullet holes, not sharp shooting," Molly drawled as she and Billy walked out to the range.

She had been on edge that morning and decided to take out her feelings on the poor targets down range. Billy had tagged along.

"We're not competing," Billy assured her, offering her a grin. She rolled her eyes heavenwards.

"Yeah, sure, Kid," she scoffed.

"Besides, even if we _were_, I think you'd manage just fine. I saw the guys you shot. Your grouping was awesome."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Billy boy," Molly smirked as she slid her earmuffs on. Billy watched her critically as she shot.

"You're too tense," he remarked as she holstered her gun. She gave him a sharp look.

"What?"

"You lean back. You should lean into it. Your torso should be farther forward than your hips," he said, pushing her shoulders forward with one hand and holding her hip in place with the other.

"Careful where you put those hands, Kid," she said. Billy held his hands up in surrender, taking a step back.

"Just trying to help." Molly felt bad at the kicked puppy look on his face.

"Alright, fine, help me. But if you tell _anybody_ about this, I will cut out your tongue," she warned. Billy tilted his head to one side.

"You're a very violent person, you know that, right?"

"Why do you think I got into the mercenary business?" she asked dryly, reloading her clip.

* * *

"Why did you?" Billy asked as they stopped for a break. Molly took a long drink of water.

"Why did I what?" she responded.

"Get into the mercenary business?"

Molly's lips pressed into a thin line as she watched him. _Come on, Molly girl, you've kept this under wraps for nearly two and a half years. You're gonna explode if you don't talk to somebody_, a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her best friend remarked.

"I was a lieutenant in the Airborne. I was in the Airborne, officially, at least. I got assigned to a spec ops unit in Iraq. They needed a lot of patching up. We went out on patrol one day. It was routine, really. Taliban hadn't been seen in the area for over a month. Dive and Gomez were arguing, and all of a sudden, bullets were flying. Dive pushed me down. He had been hit in the femoral artery, but he was still trying to keep me out of harm's way. I tried to patch him up, but those bastards had us pinned. If I even moved, they would shoot. And my squad died, just out of arm's reach," Molly reached up and scrubbed at her eyes.

"Anyways, I had to wait until dark before making my way back to base. They sent me to London to get my head shrunk. The psychologist decided that I wasn't fit for combat, so he discharged me."

"I'm sorry, Molly," Billy said soberly.

"It wasn't your fault, Kid," she brushed him off. Then his warm arms were around her, hugging her to his chest.

Molly sunk into his embrace. It had been so long since she'd had an actual hug. She relished it.

Billy squeezed her as her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.


	15. Victorians and Reminiscing

"Uh, Molly, I think you've been robbed," Billy noted as he entered her house. The door had been wide open.

"Wakka wakka, Kid," Molly sneered, imitating Fozzy Bear.

"All of your stuff is gone," he pointed out.

And it was. Her home was completely bare of furniture and all of her belongings. Molly herself was in a pair of cut off shorts with horribly frayed hems and a too large white t shirt. The stitches had been removed from the gash in her face, making it seem less severe, but it was still bright red. Her hair was knotted at the nape of her neck, but several curly tendrils had escaped to hang around her face.

Billy knew that when she let out down, it would barely touch her shoulders. She had gone to the salon and had them fix the uneven ends that her intruders had left behind.

"I know. I'm moving," she said bluntly, "now, you wanna stand there like a _dummkopf _or help me take the last boxes out to my truck?"

Billy quickly followed her down the hall to her bedroom. There were still bullet holes peppering the walls and her wardrobe. She stopped to run her hands over the polished mahogany, her fingers caressing the splintered wood.

"It's a shame, really. I liked this old thing," she admitted to him.

"What are you going to do with this place? I mean, I'll help you clean it up if you wanna sell it, but-"

"I'm not going to sell it. Tool's going to set it up as a safe house and storage area. I just can't stay here anymore. I about had a panic attack when I went to do the dishes."

Billy was surprised at her openness.

"Where's your new place?"

"It's that old Victorian place, about twenty minutes east of the hangar," she said, heaving up a box in her arms. Billy took it from her with a quizzical look. Molly sighed. "The brick house with the overgrown ivy and weeds. Looks like its been abandoned for the last twenty years?" she elaborated.

Billy grimaced. That place must have been beautiful when it was new, but now it looked like it should be on one of those ghost hunting shows.

"They fixed up the inside, new electric, new plumbing, new walls, the wood floors are _gorgeous_ and I don't even know how to use all of the fancy appliances. It's just the outside that needs work," Molly explained as they took boxes out to her truck.

"Cool, I can't wait to see it," Billy said cheerily. She gave him one of her rare, toothy grins. Billy couldn't help but smile back at her. The corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement as her lips curled upwards in her joker's smile. "You should smile more," came out before he could stop it.

Of course, that made the smile dim a bit.

"I'll keep that in mind, Kid," and just like that, the Ice Queen was back. "So, what brought you over here anyways?"

"Oh, uh, Barney's sixtieth birthday is coming up in about a week and a half. Tool wants to know if you're up for helping plan a surprise party," Billy said. Molly paused for a brief moment.

"Barney's awful sharp, Kid, and our team isn't exactly very subtle," she said sarcastically, picking up another box.

"That's why you're the only other one who knows about it," Billy said simply. Molly's head snapped around to look at him.

"Tool's putting an awful lot of trust in us," she remarked.

"He trusts you," Billy pointed out. Molly's dark eyes narrowed. "And you're the best pick. Nobody is going to bat an eye if you don't hang out with us or if you start acting shady," he plowed on.

"Great, it's nice to know they have such a high opinion of me," she drawled, shoving the box into her truck.

Billy said nothing as he continued to help her with the last few boxes. He knew she wasn't mad. She never lost her temper with him, not like she did with Barney or the others. Billy liked to think that Molly actually liked him as a friend. She was certainly less waspish with him.

"Alright. Fine. We can have the party at my house. I'll take care of the food, Tool can deal with the other guys and the beer," Molly stated. Billy grinned at her.

"Great!"

"And don't tell Tool when you get back to the shop. The other guys will be around and you've got a crappy poker face. I'll text him."

Billy nodded obediently.

"You want me to come with you and help unload those boxes?"

Molly gave him an appraising look.

* * *

For the next few days, Billy was at Molly's from sun up to sundown, helping her clean and unpack.

He helped her clear out all of the weeds that seemed to grow up the sides of the house. He helped her repaint the white trim on the outside of the house.

Molly couldn't have gotten it done without him.

"You know, you don't _have_ to help," she informed him on the third day as they took a break from pulling out weeds.

Sweat coated both of them in a fine sheen.

"I know, but I want to," he shrugged, "You never hang out with the rest of us."

"There's a reason for that, Billy. Last team I had, they got killed and left me a mess," Molly said, her voice too schooled for her to have actually been nonchalant.

"That wasn't your fault, Molly," Billy said sharply, surprising her, "We're gonna be around for a long time with a medic like you. You're too stubborn to let us die."

That made her smile a little and drop the subject.

* * *

"You sure you don't need any more help?" Billy asked for the third time that morning. He had helped Molly till up her front garden in preparation for the flowers she was going to plant.

"Billy, I would never forgive myself if I forced you to help me in the garden. Seriously, go home. You've helped me out a lot in the last few days. I can handle the rest," she assured him. Billy rolled his eyes at her.

"You're stubborn," he stated. She laughed at him.

"Yes. And I'm the medic. If you don't go, you'll risk getting on my bad side!"

"Don't want that now, do I?" his eyes twinkled, "I'll be around to help you on Friday," he assured, getting on his motorcycle.

Molly scoffed as she set about the task of gardening. She had _very_ large plots of loamy soil on either side of her stone walkway that led up to her front porch. She had ordered several rose bushes and would plant them along the walk, with mums, dahlias, daisies, and poppies behind them. Up against the house would her her favorite; the sunflowers.

With the cinderblock raised beds in her front yard, she would plant her vegetables and herbs.

Molly had always loved to garden. She would help her grandma every spring. Every time, Molly would insist upon being in charge of the lilies, just because of her mother's name.

"Do you think if I talk to the flowers, Mama will hear me?" she had always asked. Her grandma would just smile sadly and say in her thick, Dublin brogue, "Aye, mo chuisle, it's worth a shot."

Molly had stopped helping with the lilies when she was thirteen, right after her mother had died in a car accident.

She got her peace lily tattoo when she was eighteen, on an impulse, really. Something to commemorate the woman who had left Molly to be raised by her grandparents.

Molly was yanked out of her trip down memory lane by her cell phone ringing in her back pocket. She wiped her dirt covered hands on the front of her shorts and answered.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, gorgeous, what's your new address? I've got groceries for Friday," Tool said gaily.

"Come on, Tool, I could have gotten them," she protested.

"Hush, Molly. Now, come on, I don't wanna have to turn around!"

Molly rattled off her address and Tool hung up.

He arrived about half an hour later in his rust bucket of a truck. Molly brushed the loose dirt off of her front and went to help him carry in groceries.

Tool let out a low whistle.

"Damn. You've cleaned this place up pretty damn well!"

"Yeah, Billy's been helping me. You want a tour?" she asked, shoving the beer in her fridge. Tool followed her around the large house.

It had two and a half stories, all wood floors, all white walls. Tool was impressed.

"This is a real nice place, Molly," he said as she showed him the last room, her absolute favorite.

The outer wall was curved, with four bay windows. The rest of the walls were lined with shelves and all of her books were neatly put away.

A rocking chair sat before the window.

"I love it," she agreed.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the follows and reviews! :)**


	16. Prep and Party

By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, Molly had a house full of mercenaries, all ready to help her.

Yin was washing the potatoes for French fries while Billy cut them. Caesar and Gunnar had brought black streamers and balloons and they were in the process of taping them up while Molly frosted the cake. Toll was forming hamburger patties out of the ground beef.

Tool was keeping Barney distracted for the day. Christmas and Lacey had promised to show up later.

"This place is _huge_, Booker!" Caesar said for the hundredth time.

"It's pretty!" Molly said defensively, "I've always liked Victorian houses."

"It needed a lot of work. When did you move in?" Toll wondered absentmindedly.

"About a week ago. Kid helped me fix up the outside. The inside was just fine," Molly explained.

"How nice, Billy, helping out your teammate," Gunnar's blue eyes gleamed mischievously.

"Keep your trap shut, Jensen," Molly warned, pointing her rubber spatula at him threateningly. Before anybody could say anything else, somebody knocked on the door. Molly went to answer it.

Lacey stood there in her typical, low cut, frilled dress, holding a large bowl of potato salad.

"Hey, Molly! The place looks _awesome_!" the brunette enthused.

"Thanks, Lacey. Where's your other half?" Molly hoped she wouldn't have to deal with the woman without Christmas as a buffer.

"He's parking around the back. I'll go put this in the fridge, yeah?"

Molly nodded agreeably as Christmas came up the walk.

"Booker, looking marvelous," he said dryly, stepping past her. Molly rolled her eyes.

"You, too, Christmas."

* * *

When the prep was done, Molly excused herself to change into clean clothes. It didn't take long for her to find a clean pair of jeans and a dark blue flannel shirt. She left it open over her gray tank top.

As she took the steps, she rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. Caesar wolf whistled at her and she flipped him off.

"What's the time, Kid?" she wondered as he played with her deep fryer.

"Uh, quarter til five."

"Great. It's time for me to call them over," she grinned wickedly.

Originally, Tool had wanted to come up with a big and elaborate story about the guys showing up drunk and half naked to get Barney over, but Molly had shot it down.

"Barney Ross isn't an idiot, Tool. Simple is the right way to go," she had informed him.

"What's up, Booker?" Barney answered his phone.

"Hey, Barney, are you busy right now?" she asked.

"No. I'm just here with Tool. Why, what's up?"

"Well, water is leaking somewhere in my house, and I can't figure out how fix it. Is there any way you could come and help me?"

"Sure. Be over in a half an hour or so. Turn off the water on the circuit breaker so you don't have any damage."

"Thanks. See you soon," she hung up.

"That was almost scary," Billy stated. Molly flashed him a grin.

* * *

"They're here!" Lacey called. She had been watching the front window. The Expendables all crammed into the kitchen so Barney wouldn't be able to see them when he stepped into the entry hall.

Molly went and opened the door.

"Thanks for coming," she said, offering him a smile.

"No problem. Where do you hear it?"

"In the kitchen and dining room mainly," Molly said, leading him down the hall. She could hear a whispered argument. _Those morons. Barney is going to hear them-_

"Son of a-"

"Oh, for Christ's sakes! Happy birthday, Barney!" Molly exclaimed exasperatedly as Caesar cursed at Gunnar.

Barney froze as he took in the group in the kitchen. He glanced behind him to Tool, and in front of him to meet Molly's eyes.

"Thanks," was all he said.

Molly gave Christmas and Billy a quick lesson on how to fry the French fries before she went out to grill the burgers, escaping the loud, animated conversation in her home.

She looked up when Barney stepped out onto the porch, a beer in his hand.

"The black streamers were a nice touch," he drawled. She grinned.

"I can't take credit for that. It was Gunnar and Caesar," Molly explained.

"Thanks, Molly."

Her smiled softened at the use of her name.

"It was Tool's idea. I just did the cooking."

"You also let a team of rowdy men into your home," Barney pointed out, taking a seat on the porch swing. He knew how much she valued her space and privacy. He knew that to invite them into her home was a big step towards letting down her walls. It made him feel happy.

"They're my team, Barney. You are, too."


	17. Bread Baskets and Job Offers

They had just finished eating when Molly stiffened.

"Molly?" Tool, sitting beside her, asked warily. She tossed her napkin on the counter, rushing out of the kitchen to glance out the front window.

"Somebody just pulled up in Kaiser jeep. Lacey, in the utility room, there's a trap door, it'll take you to the basement. Get down there and _stay there_ until we come to get you," Molly barked, sliding a Colt 1911 A out from her bread basket. "The safe is in the hall closet, next to the bathroom, boys," she told the team, jacking the slide on her gun.

The next few seconds were a flurry of activity as beers were deposited and guns were loaded.

"You recognize 'em?" Barney asked gravely.

"Could be some of those same bastards that cut up my pretty face," Molly looked positively gleeful at the prospect of inflicting harm upon the men responsible for her disfigured face

The doorbell cut off any other conversation. Molly exhaled slowly, peering down the entry hall from her position by the fridge.

"I don't think they would bother with the doorbell if they wanted to hurt you," Toll pointed out. Molly glanced back at Barney.

"You want me to invite 'em in?" she asked dryly. Barney set his jaw. Christmas, who had snuck up to the front window, made a noise of recognition.

"It's Trench Mauser!"

"Go see what he wants," Barney ordered Caesar. He trotted down the hall and unlocked the heavy oak door. He stepped behind the door as it opened.

Trench stood in the doorway, his hands held up.

"Is that anyway to greet an old friend?!" he asked in his thick, Austrian accent.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here, Trench?" Barney demanded as they all stood on Molly's porch. Trench's team was spread out in her yard. No weapons were in their hands, but that didn't mean they weren't armed.

"If you step in my flowerbeds, I'll cut off your feet," Molly warned dangerously. She hadn't loosened her grip on her gun.

"I've come to cash in a favor," Trench said simply, "you owe me."

"For what?" Barney scoffed.

"I let you have the Vilena job," the Austrian reminded. Molly let out a strangled noise of disbelief in the back of her throat.

"Vilena was a shit storm!"

"You've reminded me why I don't let women on my team," Trench told Barney. Billy grabbed Molly before she could storm forward and give the large man a piece of her mind.

"Cut to the chase, Trench. You've got thirty seconds before I let her start shooting," Barney warned.

"My medic was killed in the last mission. I need someone to train my men in field medicine," Trench looked to Molly, "Your father recommended you. Said you were the best."

"And when did _you_ see my father?" Molly sneered.

"He worked the last mission with us."

"My dad works alone," Molly disagreed.

"Not this time. He never said what a mouthy brat you were," Trench leered at her. Billy's grip tightened around her wrist.

"Shut up, Trench," Barney barked.

"Think it over. I'll call in the morning," the Austrian nodded and began walking away. He turned before he got into the jeep. "Oh, Barney? Happy birthday."

Then exhaust belched out of the tailpipe as the engine roared to life. Trench's team climbed into the back of the jeep and they peeled out of her long driveway.

As soon as they were gone, Molly strode down the walk and around the house.

"Get inside," Barney ordered the team, already going after her. She was leaning one hand against the house, wiping sick from her mouth when Barney came around the corner.

He could see, even in the semi darkness, how badly she was shaking.

"If Trench Mauser can find me, so can they," Molly's voice trembled. It was then obvious to Barney just how badly those men had scared her. "I moved away, but-"

"Hey, take it easy, Molly," he gripped her shoulder with a strong hand, trying to anchor her. "Those guys that got you ain't coming back."

Molly let out a disbelieving laugh. "How the hell do you know that?"

"They're not going to get you, I promise." It was a dangerous promise to make, but he had never seen her so terrified, not even with Jason Elwes.

"You can't promise that, Barney," she said, her body giving another shudder.

"Well, look at it this way, if I don't keep my promise, your dad is going to kick my ass."

That startled a weak smile from her.

* * *

Lacey and Billy were washing dishes when Barney and Molly arrived back inside. The mood had sobered.

"So, we taking the job?" Christmas asked, taking a sip of beer. Barney glanced back at Molly, who seemed to be trying to shrink in on herself.

"We do this, then we'll be even with him?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's not a dangerous job, as far as jobs go. We can run it stateside. I dunno how long it would take to train them up...It's up to you, Booker," Barney said diplomatically.

"I'll do it," she said grimly.


	18. Billy's Not Cool Enough

"You ready for this, Molly?" Barney asked as he grabbed a box from the back of her truck. They were out at her old cabin. Trench's men had already assembled and were milling about the place.

Barney and Gunnar had come with her to run interference and keep her from shooting Trench.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she groused, her expression dark. Trench swaggered up, a smirk on his face.

"Barney, Frankenstein," he leered at them, "and the Little Wolf."

Molly rolled her eyes.

"You gonna keep flapping your jaw or can we get down to business?" she demanded, striding past him.

Trench's smirk only got more smug.

* * *

"-Artery's hit, then you've got to clamp it," Molly held up the sterilized package for them to look at.

"She's good at this," Gunnar noted quietly to Barney.

"Good, maybe we'll be able to get out of here sooner," Barney said gravely as one of Trench's men stuck his hand up.

"And how are we supposed ta know if the artery's been hit?" he had a thick, Scottish accent and a mop of black hair.

"Oh, trust me, you'll know," Molly said darkly, "Arterial flow is pumped _from_ the heart. The blood is generally darker and it will _spray_ from the wound. Depending on which artery is hit, you've got anywhere from thirty seconds to a few minutes to get the clamp on before they bleed out."

"Have you ever been able to save somebody in the field when their arteries were hit?" the Scot pressed. Molly swallowed hard.

"My team's smart enough not to get shot too often. Most of the time, I don't have any serious injuries to patch up," she said bluntly. "I think that's enough for today. I'll see you guys tomorrow," she said, already walking away.

* * *

"How'd it go?" Tool wondered as they ambled into the shop. Pizza was already being devoured by the rest of the team.

"Booker didn't shoot anybody," Barney said.

"Nice! You're growing as a person!" Billy enthused, holding his hand up for her to high 5. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Nobody high fives anymore, Billy," she said, dropping into the seat next to him.

"Don't leave me hanging, Molly," he bumped his shoulder into hers. Molly sighed and clapped her hand against his, obviously lacking enthusiasm. Billy chortled happily.

"You're a dork."

"You just don't know what's cool," Billy retorted.

"Not high fives," Molly pointed out, taking a large bit of pizza.

"High fives are totally cool!" Billy exclaimed, affronted look on his face. Molly scoffed at him, rolling her eyes.

"No, Billy, what's 'in' with the Youth of America is exploding fist bumps," she explained.

"Exploding fist bumps?" Billy looked puzzled. She held up her closed fist. He lightly tapped it with his own. Molly drew her hand back, opening her fingers.

"Awesomeness _collides_, then it _explodes_," she schooled him.

"Nobody I know ever makes it explode," Billy told her. Molly grinned, her eyes twinkling.

"That's how my cousins and I used to do it when I was growing up. Maybe you're just not awesome enough for it to explode," she sniffed.

"I am totally awesome!" Billy argued.

"So, should we be expecting a happy announcement any time soon?" Caesar broke in. Both Billy and Molly blushed a beet red.

"Oh, look, you broke them," Toll noted, "I didn't know faces could get that red."


	19. I'm Not That Girl

"Wow," Molly noted, her brows shooting up as she watched Trench's Scot fire off a few rounds. They were all taking a break for lunch.

It was four days into the training and the first time Molly had taught without one of her teammates to back her up.

The Scot, Danny MacClannough turned to give her a sheepish look.

"I don't think I've ever seen a mercenary so terrible at shooting. Your grouping is the stuff of nightmares," she said.

"Ach, no need to be cruel, lass. Trench doesn't pay me to shoot," Danny smirked down at her. Molly tilted her head.

"And what _does_ he pay you for?"

"Demolitions."

_Back away, Molly, the pyromaniacs are always batshit crazy-_

"That must be fun," she drawled.

"Aye," his eyes glittered, "And you, you're the Lone Wolf's daughter. Tell me, what was tha' like?"

"I grew up with my grandparents. Only saw my dad on a few birthdays and holidays," Molly said warily, "You need to keep your eyes open when you shoot, and lean into it. The gun is going to recoil. If you don't hold it steady, you'll miss," she said sternly.

"I though' you were a medic?" Danny said, cocking a brow. Molly gave him a sarcastic look as she wrenched the gun from his hands.

"Being a medic won't stop me from being attacked," she pointed to her still healing face before aiming down the sights. In quick succession, she fired off three shots.

"You missed," Danny noted. Molly turned the safety on and strode down range. She held up the paper target. The three holes were on top of one another.

"Try again, she said, stapling up a new target.

* * *

After the field medicine training was done for the day, Danny didn't leave with the rest of his team.

"You forget something?" Molly asked, packing away her supplies.

"How 'bout another go at target practice?"

"I suppose we can go through a few magazines. Why don't you get one of your teammates to teach you?" Molly said cautiously.

"They're not as pretty as you," the Scot winked. Molly felt anxiety well up in her chest. Her expression must have shown that, because Danny laughed. "Ach, calm down, lass, I've got me own girl back home."

"Uh-huh. Let's go."

* * *

"Do you have a lad?" Danny asked curiously as Molly reloaded her magazine. She glanced up at him for a brief second.

"No. I don't think anybody would understand my job, and it would take too much effort to lie to them. I don't want to have to build a relationship on lies," she said, still focused on her task.

"What about that sniper? The one who came with ye yesterday?"

"Billy? He's got a girlfriend in France. He's pretty committed to her," Molly snapped, unsure where her irritation was coming from.

"He could've fooled me. You two looked pretty cozy."

"He's my friend," Molly said coldly. Danny held up his hands in surrender.

"If ye say so, lass."

They continued to shoot in a heavy silence.

* * *

"You're getting better," Molly said grudgingly as she holstered her gun. Night was rapidly falling.

"Thanks...I didn't mean any harm about the sniper lad, I just thought-"

"It's fine. Forget it," Molly brushed it off, tossing her gun onto her front seat. Danny leaned into her window as she started up her truck.

"People in this business rarely live long enough ta find happiness, Molly. When it's right in front of you, you shouldn't let it get away," he told her gravely.

"Billy's happiness is Sophia, in France," Molly told the Scot sternly.

"Aye, but that's not right in front of him, is it?"

Molly put the truck in reverse and backed out of the driveway, a scowl on her face.

* * *

"He's putting ideas in your head, Molly girl, you don't date team members, especially not the ones that are spoken for," she berated herself as she moved around her kitchen, throwing together supper.

_He's a good guy, he would do anything for the team and for Sophia. You're not his French nurse, Molly, so put it out of your head._

Billy had been there for her through a lot of shit. He had always had her back. Through Jason Elwes, through her spilling her guts about her old unit-

"Enough, Molly Booker, you're a grown ass woman. You don't need Billy or any sort of relationship. That would just f*ck things up. You're a mercenary. You keep your team alive, that is your job."

It was bullshit, and she knew it.

Billy was probably her best friend. He wasn't jaded like the rest of them, like her. He was still happy, after all the shit he'd seen, and that in itself was a minor miracle.

Molly Booker loved him, but she would never dare tell him that. He was already in love.

She would just have to deal with it.

* * *

"_Don't dream too far, don't lose sight of who you are,  
don't remember that rush of joy.  
He could be that boy,  
I'm not that girl  
Every so often we long to steal,  
to the land of what might have been,  
but that doesn't soften the ache we feel  
when reality sets back in"_

_- I'm Not That Girl, Wicked_


	20. Bathtubs and Explosives

**A/N: Yay! Chapter 20! *Happy dance* Thanks to everybody who stuck around to read this long :)**

* * *

"_Stay calm soldier  
Do not panic  
Stay calm soldier  
And think of what you were taught  
You're too young to die  
My soldier  
You're too young to leave,"_

_-Only Young_

* * *

On the last day of training was when it all went to hell. Shots were fired from the woods and Trench buckled.

"Shit! Get in the house!" Molly ordered, grabbing one of Trench's arms. Danny grabbed the other and they heaved him into the cabin, following the four other team members.

"Who the f*ck was that?!" Danny demanded breathlessly as Molly bent over Trench's bloody leg.

"I didn't invite them!" Molly snarled, tearing his pants away from the wound, "hand me the damn gauze. One of you call Barney!" she ordered.

Danny slid her kit over to her as she tossed him her phone. Her hands were slick with the Austrian's blood.

"Well, Little Wolf, am I going to live?" Trench ground out.

"Unfortunately, yes. Hey, Barker, keep pressure on this while I hook up the plasma! Danny, you got Barney?" Molly could feel the adrenaline coursing hot through her veins.

The Scot pressed the phone to her ear as she slid the IV into Trench's arm, trying to find a vein.

"Quit poking me!" Trench complained.

"Barney?" Molly asked breathlessly.

"What the hell is going on Booker?" Barney asked patiently over the phone.

"Trench has been shot. Some guys in the woods, I think they're the same ones who sent the others."

"Alright. We'll be over in twenty. Can you hold on for that long?"

Molly looked around. They were poorly armed. All they had were their knives and pistols.

"Well, that depends on whether or not-"

Automatic gunfire broke her living room windows and she threw herself down, shielding Trench's leg from the broken glass.

"Booker?"

"Hurry up, Barney. They mean business," she said, panic pulling at her stomach.

"Help me move him to the bathroom," Molly ordered, "you got any weapons in your cars?" she asked Trench's team.

"Don't move me, damn it! I'm fine!" Trench snarled.

"You can't even move your leg. If those bastards come in, we can't be worried about you. Put him in the bath tub," Molly told Danny and Barker.

"I've got ammo in my glove compartment and a tommy gun in the back seat," Trench's second in command, Lopez, told her.

"Give me your keys," Molly ordered, holding her hands out.

"You can't be thinking of goin' out there, Molly!" Danny protested.

"Look around, Danny boy, we're armed with pistols and knives. Now, is there anything you have in your car that would help us?"

* * *

Molly peered warily out the front window, clutching the keys in her hands. She could see dark silhouettes in the woods.

"You assholes ready to cover me?" she asked, feeling another burst of adrenaline. Before they answered, Molly jetted outside to Lopez's Kaiser jeep. She could hear the heavy gunfire and feel the wind of the bullets as they just missed her. She flung the heavy door open and flew inside, slamming ti behind her.

With shaking hands, she pulled the fully loaded magazines out of the glove compartment as bullets shattered the window. Staying low, she shoved them in her pockets.

She grabbed the tommy gun and sprayed bullets out the window into the woods. That stopped them long enough for her to hop out and run to Danny's car. Luckily for her, the Kaiser was in between the woods and the car, so she had cover while she bent over Danny's trunk. She grabbed the large duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder.

She was halfway back to her house when pain shot up her torso. Her body was late in reacting as she reached the threshold.

Danny yanked her inside.

"You hit?"

She could only nod as Lopez slammed the door shut. She could feel the numbness stretching up her chest.

"Molly, hey! Look at me!" Danny slapped her face hard. Her dark eyes shot to his. "Ok, walk me through this."

Instead of answering, her hands pressed against her side, feeling the hot blood of her already soaked shirt. She ignored the icy pain as her fingers closed around the metal that had lodged itself in her rib.

"Missed the organs," she whispered.

"What about your rib? Won't that puncture your lung?" Barker demanded.

"Pull the bullet out and stand me up," she ordered. She felt terribly sleepy all of a sudden.

"Molly-"

"Do it," she ground out.

* * *

A few minutes later, Molly was leaning heavily against the wall, her face deathly pale as she pressed gauze to her side with one hand.

Her gun hung limply at her side as she watched Trench's team prepare. Danny was pulling grenades out of the duffel bag.

"Is that a pipe bomb?" she demanded.

"I told ye, I'm a demolitions man," Danny grinned, unabashed.

"You're insane," Molly decided.

"Aye, that, too."

She heard the familiar roar of Barney's truck pulling up the driveway, and then more gunfire. She repressed the shudder that ran through her body. Molly had to stay awake.

* * *

Barney and Christmas pressed themselves behind the truck for cover.

"Lay down your weapons! We just want Marie Booker!"

"Christ, they really have a hard on for her, don't they?" Christmas scoffed. Barney let out a gruff laugh as he pulled out his phone and dialed Molly.

"Everything ok in there?" Barney asked when she picked up.

"Well, we're f*cked if they decided to come in the house. Danny's got some explosives. Where's everybody else?" Molly asked.

"Flanking them. Just sit tight."

"Sure enough," Molly said tensely.

* * *

There had to be at least twenty guys, all shooting up the house. They never saw the Expendables coming.

Of course, after the first few fell, they started turning around to shoot. Gunnar fell, a bullet in his chest.

Barney and Christmas began shooting from the other direction.

It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

They left one alive.

"Who are you working for?" Barney demanded, pressing his boot to the kid's neck.

"Donner! Ariana Donner! She just wants John Booker!" The kid sobbed.

"Why?" Christmas raised his brow.

"I don't know! Please!"

Barney glanced over to Gunnar, who was being tended by Tool. The blonde giant looked worse for wear.

He shot the kid in the head, right between the eyes.

"Nobody messes with my team."


	21. He Was Never Mine to Lose

"Hey, take it easy, let me look at that!" Tool protested as Molly leaned over Gunnar.

"It hit scar tissue, you're lucky, Big Guy," she said. She was about as pale as he was, and still holding a gauze pad to her side.

"I've got this, Tool, take care of Trench so he stops whining."

Barney had to repress a smile. Even with a hole in her side, she couldn't resist the wisecracks.

"Hey, can we talk?" Billy nudged Barney in the side with his elbow. Barney nodded his assent and followed the sniper out of Molly's cabin.

"Everybody's going to live, right?" Billy had been pale since he had seen how much blood coated Molly.

"Yeah. They're tough," Barney smiled wryly. Tough was an understatement. It was f*cking _hard_ to kill a mercenary.

"I need to go to France," Billy said abruptly. Barney's eyebrows shot up. "I'm not leaving you guys, but this has just shown me how quickly everything can change, even if you're stateside. I need to see Sophia, I want to ask her to marry me. Then I'll come back. I just don't want to leave anything unsaid," Billy spoke in a rush.

If Barney wasn't so jaded, he would have understood that kind of love. But, in his experience, that kind of love left you vulnerable for heartbreak and misery.

But Billy wouldn't understand that until his heart had been broken. So Barney just nodded and forced a smile onto his lips.

"If that's what you want, Kid."

Billy smiled sincerely and clapped his leader on the shoulder.

"Thanks, sir, I'll be back soon."

"No rush," Barney shrugged.

* * *

"Jesus, Molly, sit back before you bleed out!" Tool said, eased her back so she sat against the wall.

"Hones'ly, Tool, 'm fine," her words were slurring as she blinked rapidly.

"No, you're not. See if she has any more plasma in that bag of hers," Tool ordered Danny as he peeled the wet gauze back from her side.

Danny winced at the sight of her bloody skin as he handed the IV drip to Tool.

"I guess it's true that doctors make the worst patients," Danny tried to joke as Tool worked on cutting her shirt away.

"That is for damn certain."

* * *

Molly woke many hours later in her dark bedroom. Somebody had stripped her of her clothes and put a clean t shirt on her. She didn't wanna think about which of her teammates had caught a peepshow, so she focused on cataloging her injuries. The gauze around her side was wrapped tight and whatever painkillers they'd given her had worn off. She could feel the dried blood around her fingernails.

Slowly, she eased herself up into a sitting position, feeling her skin pull at stitches on her side. She got out of bed and limped to the door.

There was a thrum of hushed voices downstairs that quieted when they heard her footsteps. The light was turned on and she winced.

"You shouldn't be up and around," Tool said sternly, coming up the steps to meet her. His warm, calloused hand closed around her elbow.

"Is everybody ok?" she directed to Barney and Danny, still at the foot of the steps.

"Trench is on his way home. Gunnar's watching some reality TV show on your couch. Now get back in bed," Barney ordered.

"I don't wanna," Molly complained petulantly. Barney rolled his eyes heavenwards, as if asking for some sort of help.

"She should probably eat something," Danny remarked. Molly sent him a grateful smirk. His lips curled up at the corners.

Barney sighed in exasperation and looked to Tool for confirmation. Molly turned her dark, pleading eyes to the older man.

"Go sit on the couch. I'll make you something," Tool rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Booker," Gunnar greeted sleepily when she sat on the couch, leaning against the arm. He was at the other end, his feet stretched out on the footstool, an afghan covering him.

"How ya feelin', Gunnar?" she asked. The Swede made a noise in the back of his throat as he pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and tossed it at her.

"Tool's got me on morphine. It's nice."

Molly laughed and immediately regretted it as her side twinged.

"Yeah, morphine's some good shit. You got really lucky, Gunnar. That bullet nearly nicked your aorta," Molly noted.

"You still could have saved me," Gunnar said confidently as he unmuted the television. Molly's eyes drifted over the screen. Her lips twitched when she realized that he was watching a Jersey Shore rerun.

Molly wasn't sure when she dozed off again, but it was before Tool came in with a bowl of canned chicken noodle soup.

* * *

She woke up to the sun shining in through her front windows, making her almost uncomfortably warm.

Somebody, or, rather a _few_ somebodies, had just stomped in her front door.

"Well, don't you look beautiful," Hale smiled teasingly down at her.

"Aw, thanks," Gunnar grinned.

"Not you, dipshit, our lovely medic, who always seems to be getting hurt. Brought you some flowers!" he brandished a rather bruised and limp bouquet of white daisies at her. Molly felt affection pool in her chest.

"Thanks, Hale," she said drowsily, taking them from him.

"Toll brought you some purple ones, and he's trying to find some water to put them in. Lacey picked 'em out," Hale admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"She here?" Molly tried to peer around him.

"Yeah, with Christmas and Barney in the kitchen," as Hale spoke, Toll came out of the kitchen with a crystal vase. A few lilac clippings were in the water. He took the daisies from her and dropped them into the vase.

"Thanks, Toll," Molly offered him a smile. He ducked his head and muttered something.

"Hey, where's Billy?" Gunnar looked around. Molly frowned. He wasn't one to miss out on any team get together.

"Flew off to France yesterday. Went to propose to his girl," Barney said. Molly felt like somebody had dropped a cold, lead ball into her stomach.

Nobody said anything as she went up to her room.

* * *

About an hour later, Danny knocked gently on her open door. Molly looked up from where she sat cross legged on her bed, the sunflower guitar that Tool had given her was across her lap.

She picked at the strings gently, creating a soft, rhythm-less melody.

"I'm, uh, gonna head out now, lass, get back home," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Ok. Stay in touch, alright?" Molly's voice was carefully vacant.

"I'm sorry about your sniper, Molly-"

"He was never my anything, Danny," she said stiffly.

"Aye, I know, lass. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

Molly forced a pleasant smile at him, not making any promises.


	22. See You When I See You

"_Let's don't say goodbye  
I hate the way it sounds  
So if you don't mind  
Let's just say for now_

See you when I see you  
Another place some other time  
If I ever get down your way  
Or you're ever up around mine  
We'll laugh about the old days  
And catch up on the new  
Yeah see you when I see you  
And I hope it's some day soon"

_-Jason Aldean_

* * *

A few days later, after Molly's house had been vacated of her team, she set about packing. She was only taking a duffel bag and her guitar. Molly wasn't going to drag out goodbyes. Only Tool and Barney would get her farewells.

Her mind had been made up last night.

If this Ariana Donner would keep sending armies after her, Molly would give them something to chase.

There wouldn't be any more collateral damage to her team.

Billy had nothing to do with her decision to leave. At least, that's what she kept trying to convince herself of.

The heavy knocking on her door pulled her out of her poisonous thoughts.

"It's open!" she bellowed down the steps. Barney stepped into her house.

"You shouldn't leave your door unlocked," he rebuked.

"I knew you were coming," she brushed it off, setting her bag down. Barney's eyebrows shot up as he took in her army duffel and banged up guitar case.

"You going somewhere?"

"I'm leaving, Barney. Whoever Ariana Donner is, she obviously had no problem with bloodshed. Gunnar was nearly killed. I'm not going to be here when the next team comes a'knocking," she said firmly.

"Come on, Booker, we'll handle it-"

"No." Her voice was flat and there was a darkness to her eyes, "I've already lost one team, Barney, don't ask me to put this one at risk."

"Iraq?" he asked soberly, folding his arms over his chest. Molly shuffled her feet, leaning against the wall and avoiding his eyes at all costs.

"Yeah," her voice was rough, "They got shot. I couldn't save them. I'm not going to let that happen to the Expendables."

"Where are you going to go?" he asked seriously. Molly gave a half shrug.

"Probably Eastern Europe, I'll find my Dad, watch out for my step mom and half brother, let him take care of this 'Ariana Donner.'"

Barney stared at her hard. Molly lowered her eyes.

"And this has got nothing to do with Billy leaving?"

"Come on, Barney, you think I'd give up my job for a boy?" she scoffed.

"I'd have less trouble believing you if you could look me in the eyes," Barney said evenly. Immediately, she lifted her dark eyes up to meet his.

Barney saw how misty they were.

"Great, my rep is totally f*cked," she said, wiping at the corner of her eye with the pad of her thumb.

"I won't tell," Barney promised.

"He's happy, and I won't ever begrudge him that, but it's hard to see him in love with somebody else," her words came out in a rush and her cheeks went pink.

Molly hadn't meant to admit that much.

"Well, tell your dad I said hi," Barney said, straightening. He offered her his hand to shake.

Molly's grip was strong. Before he could let go, she hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, Barney," she whispered into his chest. Barney was unsure how to react, so he settled for one hand on her shoulder blade and the other on her mop of curly hair.

"You come back whenever you want. We'll always have a place for you," he promised her. She pulled away, sniffing.

"I'll leave my number with Tool, that way you can call if you need me," she promised.

* * *

"I don't think you should go, Molly. Billy's coming back tonight, just stay, talk to him-"

"I'm not gonna step in on his relationship with Sophia, Tool," Molly said sharply as he helped her put her bags in the bed of her truck.

"You're part of the Expendables, Molly," Tool snapped.

"You have my number if they need me," she said flippantly, "Besides, it's not forever. I've just gotta get this Donner woman off of my back. Then, I'll come back."

"That's bullshit. You're in love with Billy and instead of facing it, you're running!"

"That is _not_ the only reason, James O'Toole! Do you know what it's like to watch your whole team die in front of you?!" Molly rounded on him.

"Yes," Tool said honestly.

"Well, then you know why I can't let that happen to them," Molly said stiffly.

"They're big boys, Molly, and I know they'd rather have their medic than not be attacked by some psycho who's after your dad-"

"Well, it's not their decision, it's mine. And I'm leaving."

Tool let out an angry sigh and pulled her into a rough hug.

"You be careful, Moll, you call me the second you find your dad."

She squeezed his arm.

"This isn't goodbye, Tool. I'll see you when I see you," she promised.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! They really make my day :D**


	23. Molly's being a Martyr

"Listen up!" Barney called, immediately quieting the team. Billy, whose countenance was grim, was sitting by Tool in the shop. The others were playing a game of cards.

"Where's Booker, Barney? Shouldn't she be here for this little announcement?" Christmas asked before taking a swig of beer.

"That's what it's about. Our medic, with all of her martyr tendencies, has taken it upon herself to get rid of Ariana Donner. She left this morning."

The uproar was instant.

"-She's going to get herself killed!" Hale raged.

"-Where'd she go?!" Gunnar demanded.

Barney just stood there with his arms crossed, waiting for them to shut up. Billy and Tool were the only silent ones.

"She's going to meet up with her dad and look out for her step mom and little brother while he takes care it. I don't know if or when she'll come back. Until then, we'd better do our best not to need a medic."

Then he left the shop in silence. Billy pursued.

"Why did you let her leave, Barney?" Billy asked, jogging to catch up with his leader. Barney scoffed derisively.

"You really think I _let_ her do anything? She'd have killed me if I tried to stop her. How was France?"

A muscle in Billy's jaw twitched.

"It was fine for the first few days, but Sophia was...distant. She was cheating on me."

Barney swore. "Sorry, Kid."

"Nah, it's...I knew it would be a possibility, I just never- It doesn't matter. It's done. But Molly's gonna get herself hurt playing this martyr. We can handle ourselves."

"You know, Ariana Donner was the reason she gave me, but if you believe Tool, she was half in love with a boy," Barney said gruffly.

Billy felt a weight drop in his stomach.

"She was?" his voice had gotten rough.

"Yeah," Barney nodded wisely, "But this boy was in love with somebody else, so she left. She didn't want him to be unhappy, but she also knew that if she stayed, she'd be in hell...But Tool's a crazy bastard, you shouldn't listen to a word he says."

* * *

"Tool, can you give me Molly's phone number?" Billy asked urgently. The older man gave him a disinterested look.

"Why?"

"Because I want her to come back."

Tool swore colorfully, running a hand through his hair.

"Barney talk to you?" he demanded.

"Yes. Sophia was cheating on me. Molly shouldn't have left," Billy said urgently. Tool offered him a slip of paper.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Kid."

* * *

"Hey, Molly, it's me again, I don't know if you're in a plane or what, but I need you to call me back-" she deleted the message.

Billy had been calling her all night. She was nearly to her father's little cabin in the Albanian mountains.

As if on cue, her phone began to ring again. As cranky and tired as she was, she couldn't listen to the 'Billy's Got a Gun' ring tone for a second longer.

"_What_?!" she demanded, answering it. Billy let out a relieved sigh.

"Molly, I thought something had happened-"

"Billy, you've got five seconds to tell me what the emergency is, or I swear to whatever God is up there that I'll-"

"Sophia was cheating on me!" Billy blurted.

"Why does that involve me? Do you need me to fly all the way back to the States so you can have a damn shoulder to cry on?!" Molly snarled, finally losing her temper.

"Molly-"

"Barney and Tool talked to you," she guessed.

"Yeah, Molly-"

"Don't flatter yourself, Kid, I have to protect my dad and the team. Don't call me any more," she said before hanging up. She put her phone on silent before tossing it to the passenger seat. The bullet hole in her side burned with pain. She was overdue to take some painkillers, but the pain kept her awake.

She turned onto a path and parked the jeep. She would have to hike the rest of the way.

Slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder and hoisting her guitar case with her hand, she held a flashlight in the other.

The hike up the mountain was not pleasant in the pitch dark. It took over twenty minutes before she saw the lights in the windows.

The cabin was impressively large. Her flashlight beam fell on a pile of wood by the door. The snarl of a dog made her freeze.

"Not another step," the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed into her neck. Molly set her guitar case and duffel down carefully, holding her hands up.

"Really, Dad? Seven years and that's _all_ you have to say to me?"


	24. Nine Months in Albania

Nine months later, Molly woke up to watery light streaming into her bedroom window. It wasn't actually a bedroom, it had been hastily thrown together when she had arrived.

Booker's gun room had become her space. There were three safes, a pile of ammo cans in one corner, and a peg board that held up an array of knives and hand guns.

The smell of Hoppe's Gun Oil was heavy, but she didn't mind it. It reminded her of home. Molly propped herself up on her elbows. Half laying on her feet was a large rottweiler named Chinook. He was the older of the two dogs that the Booker family owned.

The other dog, a Newfoundland named Baba Yaga, slept down the hall with four year old Adrian.

"Get up, you lug," Molly pulled her legs out from under him. Chinook looked up and gave her a pitiful look. "Don't look at me like that. Let's go," she rose. Her dog tags were warm against her chest.

Molly crept down the hall to let Baba Yaga out of Adrian's room and then let both dogs out to do their business.

Dana Booker, her too beautiful step mother, was sipping tea at the kitchen table in her house coat.

"Good morning, Molly," Dana greeted. Her accent was noticeable, but not so thick that you had problems understanding her.

"Heard from Dad?" Molly asked, pouring herself a mug of tea. Immediately after Molly had arrived, Booker had hastily explained to his daughter who Ariana Donner was before heading out.

* * *

_"I was...involved with her, before I met your mom. She was crazy, so I left. I never thought she would find out about you, Marie, I'm sorry. I'll take care of it. Just stay here and look out for Dana and Adrian. I'll be back as soon as I can," he kissed her forehead._

* * *

His only saving grace was that he had seemed truly repentant, but Molly would never forget the look on his face after her saw the red scar that twisted her features.

Living with Dana and Adrian wasn't so bad. The first few days had been awkward as hell, but the ice had soon broken and they fell into routine.

Adrian absolutely loved Molly. Everyday, they would think up some new game to play. And if he didn't mind his mother, Molly could always convince him to.

Living in Albania was peaceful, and Molly loved it. It had no traces of her life with the Expendables or as a military medic.

Of course, she called Tool every so often to let him know that all was well, but they never talked for long.

And that had been her life for the last nine months. Up until Church called her.

"Yeah?" she answered her phone and setting her mug of tea down, shooting Dana a wary look. The Romanian woman's mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Lieutenant Booker, it's Church. I gave Barney Ross the Vilena job," he said smoothly. Molly's grip tightened on the phone.

"Yeah, I know who you are. That was a shit storm. How the hell did you get this number?" she demanded, forsaking all attempts at courtesy. She strode out of the kitchen. Dana didn't need to be involved in this.

"I'm a CIA agent, Lieutenant Booker-"

"Stop calling me that!" Molly spat, "I was discharged, I'm not a f*cking officer anymore." Her dog tags had never felt so heavy on her chest.

"Alright," Church said placidly, "I just thought you might like to know that your team, the Expendables, are going to be working a job in your area tomorrow. Any back up you have to offer wouldn't go amiss."

Molly pursed her lips.

"Is it going to be a dangerous mission?" she asked grimly.

"It's not supposed to be, but you of all people know about the Sang problem in that area, don't you?"

"Text me the coordinates. I'll be there."

"It's a plane crash. They're supposed to be retrieving something from the wreckage. They have one of my people along with them, so don't be alarmed."

"I'm not easily alarmed," Molly sneered.

"No, but I am well aware of your tendencies to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Just text me the coordinates," Molly snapped.

"I have them right here. You ready?" Church said simply.

"Yeah, go on," Molly uncapped a black marker and rolled up the sleeve of her shirt. As Church read them out, she scrawled them onto the pale skin of her inner forearm.

Molly repeated them to him, just to confirm.

"That's it. Oh, and Miss Booker?"

"Yeah?"

"Give my regards to your father."

Molly hung up without another word.


	25. Field Surgery

Molly readjusted the shoulder of her med kit as she glanced down at her hand held GPS. As she mentally calculated how much longer it would take before she reached the wreckage, the steady beat of a helicopter rotors reached her ears.

"Oh, hell," she grimaced. _That cannot be good._ Molly quickened her pace.

She broke out of the woods just as the helicopter rose, spreading dust. Molly counted out the black masses on the ground. _Gunnar, Christmas, Hale, Toll, Barney...Oh, Christ-_

Molly had never run so fast.

Her lungs burned by the time she reached Billy, lying on his back, blood gushing from his gut.

"I leave you f*cking assholes for nine goddamn months!" she seethed, tearing open a gauze packet with her teeth.

"Booker-?!"

"Any of you know his blood type?" Molly demanded, already yanking out a plasma drip. "Cut open his shirt. I can't see a damn thing," she ordered.

"Molly, stomach wounds-"

"Barney Ross, these next few minutes are critical. So, either you help me, or stand back," That was the first time Barney Ross was actually intimidated by Molly Booker

She looked capable of anything at that moment, with her healed scar and cold, distant eyes. She meant business, and that was for damn certain.

"Keep him talking. Don't let him pass out. Hold that up," Molly passed off the plasma to Hale.

In the cold, Albanian field, Molly operated on Billy with only the supplies in her field kit. Barney couldn't help but be impressed with how cool she kept, even when Billy started to fade.

"Hey!" Molly snarled, slapping his face, "I did not waste all this time on you for you to up and die! Now, focus!"

For over four hours, she worked on him, ordering Gunnar and Christmas to hold up flashlights when the light began to fade.

After she smoothed the clean gauze bandage over his stomach, she sunk back onto the ground, running a blood covered hand through her hair.

"Shit," she breathed, closing her eyes.

"He gonna be ok?" Barney asked stiffly, looking down at her. Molly let out a long, shaky breath through her mouth.

"Yeah. Not out here, though. I've gotta get him back to my step ma's house. I left the jeep a few miles away."

"What the hell are you even doing here?" Christmas asked.

"My dad's got a cabin. Family lives there. I've been here the last nine months. What did those guys get away with?"

All eyes turned to the new girl. Maggie ducked her head.

"I can't-"

Before Barney could even say anything, Molly was on her feet and her face was inches from Maggie's.

"Church put this team in danger. Billy nearly died. Now, what the _hell_ were you after?!" Molly spat. Maggie, to her credit, didn't flinch from the taller woman.

"It's military grade plutonium, left over from the Cold War."

Molly spun on her heel, cursing and spitting. "How much?!" she demanded. Maggie lowered her eyes.

"Sweetheart, I ain't in the f*cking _mood_ to-"

"Five tons," Maggie said swiftly.

"Who was the man that was in the helicopter, Barney? Did he have a Belgian accent and a tattoo on his neck?" Molly turned her blazing eyes to the leader. She had a bad feeling in her stomach.

"Yeah."

Molly swore again.

"What, you know him?" Christmas scoffed.

"His name is Vilain, he runs the Sang. They terrorize all the villages in the area. They're like a crime syndicate. He's the _last_ person you'd want to have five tons of plutonium," Molly said viciously.

Barney pinched the bridge of his nose.

* * *

"How the hell did you even find us?" Christmas asked breathlessly. Molly was supporting the other end of the roughly made stretcher. Billy was still passed out.

"Church. He called and said you boys may need some help. I'm glad I came," Molly said grimly, her eyes trailing over Billy critically. "Help me get him to my step ma's house and then you can take the jeep to get the guns," Molly stated.

It only took forty five minutes to drive back up into the mountains. The hike up the path was not one Molly would care to repeat, not while lugging Billy around in a stretcher.

A pale Dana greeted them at the door.

"Molly, what has happened?"

"Dana, this is Lee Christmas and Billy Timmons. They're part of the Expendables. They've pissed off the Sang," Molly said, out of breath.

Dana stood aside so they could carry Billy into the cabin.

Christmas helped Molly put Billy onto her mattress.

"I'll find you guys when he's out of the woods," Molly murmured to Christmas as she hooked up an IV drip.

Christmas glanced to Dana, who was hovering in the doorway.

"Yeah. I'll tell Barney. It was nice meeting you, ma'am," Christmas touched two fingers to his brow in a loose salute.

Dana nodded and smiled thinly.

* * *

"Lolly, Mama told me to bring you supper," Adrian said in his broken English, carefully holding a dinner plate out to his older sister.

"Thanks, hon," she said softly, shifting in her seat. She had set up a sleeping bag against one of the gun safes so she could sit against it and keep an eye on Billy, who still occupied her bed.

Chinook was curled up next to her. "Go and eat your supper, Adrian," she told the boy gently. He nodded once and scampered off.

Molly set the plate in her lap and realized her hands were still coated with Billy's dried blood. She stood on shaky legs and put the food up before going to the bathroom to shower.

Molly scrubbed her hands until they were raw and there were no traces of blood to be found.

* * *

John Booker was pacing the room when she returned, dressed in loose, gray flannel pants and a white thermal.

"Dad," she was surprised.

"Hey, Marie. You ok?" his eyes were concerned. She shrugged limply.

"You back for good?" she hadn't seen her father since she had arrived in Albania.

"Ariana Donner won't be bothering us anymore," he promised firmly. The scar on Molly's face twinged with a pain long past.

"Dad, Barney and the others are going after Vilain," she said.

"I know. Dana told me."

"Will you help them?"

"Molly, you know I work alone-"

"Dad, _please_. I won't be able to leave Billy for another twenty four hours, but I have a feeling they're going to need help. I can't leave them hanging."

John Booker sighed heavily. He had not been there for his daughter for most of her childhood. How could he refuse her this?

"Alright, Marie. I'll check in on them."

She hugged him tightly.

* * *

**A/N: Special thanks to everybody who has reviewed and followed! (Seriously, they motivate me to write this!) and a shout out to Mopargirl1, for just being awesome ;)**


	26. Papa Bear

Molly shifted again on the hard floor. Chinook lifted his head and lot out a low whine.

"I'm sorry, hon," she said sarcastically, trying to pull the quilt further over her shoulder. Even with her sweatshirt and flannel pants, she was still cold.

A low moan came from the mattress.

"Shit, Billy," Molly was up in an instant, turning the light on. Billy blinked slowly. "Don't move," she warned, crouching over him to check his bandages.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he groaned, "where am I?"

"You got stabbed by Vilain. He runs the crime syndicate around here," she said, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Billy repeated.

"I live here, with my step ma and little brother. The plane only crashed about forty miles from here. Church called me and asked me to back you guys up."

"You saved my life," Billy realized.

Molly's lips twitched downwards, as if she was fighting a grimace.

"What happened to the guys?"

"They're completing the mission. On a level of one to ten, how bad is your pain?" she asked, pressing a cold hand against his warm brow. His blue eyes drifted shut.

"Your hand feels nice."

"You're running a fever. Damn it," she turned to the far cabinet in the room and began to rummage through it, looking for the strongest antibiotic she had.

"Molly, I'm ok, you saved me," Billy assured her sleepily. Molly sent him a dark look over her shoulder.

* * *

The morning's light found Molly pressing a cold compress to Billy's brow. His fever had spiked an hour ago.

"Is everything alright, dear?" Dana poked her head into the room. She immediately took note of her step daughter's tired eyes and stiff back.

"He'll be fine. His fever is coming down," Molly said grimly.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Dana asked pleasantly.

"Eggs and toast, please," Molly nodded agreeably. Dana smiled.

"Should I make extra for him?" Her eyes trailed over Billy's vulnerable, prostrate form, completely swathed in blankets.

"I'll make him something when he wakes up," Molly shrugged.

* * *

Meanwhile, many miles away, Hale was looking around the mock American city anxiously.

"What the hell just happened?" he demanded of Barney as they met in the square. Sang bodies littered the ground.

"Somebody got a little carried away," Barney said wisely, an explanation already forming in his head. If Molly was in Albania, John Booker couldn't be too far. Barney knew the rumors of the Lone Wolf's death had to be bullshit.

_Nobody_ killed the Lone Wolf.

"Where are the shooters?" Gunnar asked, his eyes scanning the area.

"I dunno, but if they wanted us dead, we'd be dead," Barney said simply. He wasn't that worried about it. Maggie's face was drawn with fear and her hands trembled from the adrenaline.

_Molly Booker would never have shown any fear,_ the thought came unbidden to Barney's mind. He had kept thoughts of his medic in the back of his head for the last nine months. Missing her wouldn't do him any good. Seeing her appear like some sort of f*cking guardian angel when they needed her most was nothing short of a miracle.

She had kept her head, even while she operated on a dying teammate.

"Barney," Maggie's tense voice drew him out of his head. Her eyes were trained over his shoulder. He turned to follow her gaze.

Out of the fog, like some sort of damn cowboy, strode John Booker.

"Don't freak out," Barney advised his team.

"Is that-" Hale started.

"Small world, huh, Barney?" John Booker asked, a smirk hidden under his beard. His hair was lighter and more blonde than Molly's light auburn.

"Rumor had that you were dead," Barney pointed out.

"Just a precaution. I've got a family to look out for. How's life treating you?" Booker asked, hooking the leg of his sunglasses in his shirt collar.

"Been better. _You _did all this?" Barney asked, gesturing to the half destroyed town. He was almost expecting Molly to come out from an alley way.

"I fly solo. I thought you knew that," Booker said gravely. His meaning was clear. _I wouldn't let my daughter follow me on a mission if my life depended on it._

"I heard it, but I didn't buy it," Barney scoffed.

"Hmm, well now you do," Booker said, obviously unimpressed, "This your team?"

Barney twisted and pointed them out.

"Yeah, Gunnar, Toll Road, Hale Caesar, and Maggie."

Booker's narrowed eyes rested a little too long on the Asian woman. "She's CIA, runs with Church," Barney said. _Don't worry, old man, I would never be able to find somebody to replace your daughter._

Booker nodded once at them.

"Booker," Gunnar grinned, "You're the one people call the Lone Wolf."

"I have been called that," Booker allowed, "but I have mellowed," he added, looking at Barney. The leader of the Expendables glanced around, counting the bodies.

"Not that much," Barney said, "I heard another rumor, that you were bitten by a king cobra?"

"Yeah, I was," Booker nodded gravely, "but after five days of agonizing pain, the cobra died."

"You know, that's exactly what your daughter said when I asked _her_ about it," Barney chuckled, reaching out to hug his old friend. "It's great to see you, Booker."

* * *

"So, how'd you wind up in this godforsaken place?" Booker wondered idly.

"Got ambushed by Sangs about a hundred kilometers east of here. Nearly killed one of my men-" Barney started.

"I know. Marie was taking care of him when I got home, before she begged me to come and help you. I would be on the look out for her. I doubt she's going to sit this one out. She didn't say why you were out there by the crash site, though."

"We were trying to recover some CIA data from the plane. According to Maggie, it leads to weapons grade plutonium, left over from the Cold War."

"And now the Sangs have it," Booker said, unamused.

"Now the Sangs have it," Barney agreed.

"They are the lowest form of scum. Shooting them has been good business," Booker said knowingly.

"What do you know about a guy named Vilain?" Barney asked, thinking of how pale Molly had gotten at the thought of the crime boss.

"He pretty much runs everything in this area... You're gonna need more men if you expect to get out alive," Booker said.

"Can you help out?" Barney knew better than to get his hopes up.

"Ah, sorry, Barney, I've got a wife and a little boy that I haven't been with in nine months. She'll tan my hide if I miss another supper," Booker said apologetically.

Barney shook his hand.

"It's fine, I understand. Thanks for showin' up."

So, all that time that Molly had been in Albania, her father had been absent. Barney filed that information away for a later date. It was hardly his most pressing concern.

"My pleasure," Booker began to walk away.

"Hey! Tell Molly to take good care of Billy, alright?" Barney called. Booker waved to show he'd heard.

"Oh! There's a village down the road, Barney, they're good people, and they hate the Sangs!" Booker called as an after thought, "Maybe they can help out."

"Thanks," Barney nodded.

"Happy hunting," Booker grinned a grin that reminded Barney far too much of his medic.

* * *

"Dad, is everything ok?" Molly asked her father over the satellite phone. She was watching Adrian babble to Billy.

"Sang caught up with them, at that Soviet training facility, you know, the American city one?" John Booker said.

"Is everybody alright?" Molly's grip tightened on her phone.

"They're fine. They're going after Vilain. I sent them to that village near there."

Molly mentally calculated the time it would take her to travel there.

"You going with them?" she asked tensely.

"I work alone, Molly."

She scoffed.

"Yeah. Alright. Bye, dad," she hung up the phone. Billy and Adrian looked up at her. Billy's clear blue eyes were full of questions.

"I've gotta go save our team," she said simply.


	27. What a Helluva Way to Die

"Ah, hell, Christmas, you missed all the excitement!" Hale said enthusiastically, "Even when she's not here, our little Booker is _still_ looking out for us!"

"I'm lost," Christmas told Barney.

"Molly sent her Dad after us. He save our asses," Barney explained flatly.

"She going to be joining us?" Christmas asked.

"Booker seemed to think so," Barney shrugged.

* * *

At the time, nobody was exactly sure how Molly managed to beat them to the village, but she did.

Barney slammed on the brakes of the jeep, his head slamming forward as the first volley of shots cracked through the air.

"Out, out, out!" Barney shouted. Christmas and Maggie were already sliding out the passenger door.

Barney cocked his gun as he leaned against one of the tires. The roof tile of the house behind them was chipping as the bullets hit it.

"They're missin' us by a mile!" Barney scoffed. Hale and Gunnar shared a grin as Barney peered around the jeep.

A dark haired woman was holding her gun as if it were going to bite her.

"Put down guns!" she shouted in her thick accent. She sounded terrified.

"That's not happenin'!" Christmas disagreed. Barney watched a young blonde girl with a head scarf slip. The bullet hit the ground not three feet away from Barney.

"Safest place is in front of their guns," Christmas sniggered. The others chortled at that.

"We will _shoot_ you!" the brunette threatened angrily.

A sharp, foreign word, made the women freeze.

"Stop! They are here to help!" Maggie stepped out from behind the jeep, the Expendables following.

"Even you two rejects could get lucky around here," Hale sniggered, looking around at all the females.

"Ya think?" Gunnar grinned.

"I doubt it," Toll said gruffly.

"You mind?" Barney snapped halfheartedly. These women were obviously scared out of their wits. His eyes scanned the faces of the semi circle, trying to find Molly among the pale, skinny women. He _knew_ she had been the one that ordered the cease fire.

"Who you are?" The brunette woman asked in broken, accented English.

"We're Americans," Barney

"Since _when_?" Christmas scoffed disgustedly.

"Swedish," Gunnar volunteered.

"Blackfoot," Hale said simply.

"Chinese," Maggie said in a clipped tone.

"Retards," Toll shook his head.

"You done?" Barney demanded, annoyed with the mouthiness of his team.

"What do you want?" the woman lifted her chin defiantly.

"It's alright, Pilar, they're harmless," there she was. Looking at her now, Barney wasn't sure how he could have missed her.

Molly was dressed in olive green fatigues, bloused expertly over her worn, black boots. The matching shirt was only buttoned half way over a black t shirt and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows.

Out of all the women in scarves and skirts, Molly was the only one holding her gun properly. There was an easy smirk on her lips, barely hampered by the red scar that would forever mar her face, and her dark eyes glittered mischievously.

"Only you assholes would think about getting lucky at a time like this," she said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder.

Hale laughed and spun her around in a bone crushing hug.

"Damn, girl! Look at you! Jesus, it's good to see you!"

Molly was grinning up at him.

"You, too, Hale," she said sincerely before turning to Barney. He shook her hand firmly before pulling her into a gruff, one armed hug.

"Kid gonna be ok?" he asked, pulling away from her.

"Yeah. He got lucky. It miraculously missed his organs, no sepsis. My step ma is watching over him," Molly assured him.

"He was lucky you have a bad habit of popping up out of nowhere," Christmas corrected, tugging on her ponytail. It was his own immature way of showing he had missed her.

"Well, you know me," her smile turned wistful before her eyes shifted to Toll and Gunnar. Toll offered her a twisted grin.

Gunnar stood next to her, peering down. Their height difference was nearly comical. Gunnar, who was 6' 5'', easily towered over Molly's 5' 3''.

"Things were boring without you, Little Wolf," Gunnar said simply before giving her a squeeze. Molly smiled crookedly.

"Somehow, I doubt that, Gunnar," she said.

* * *

"The Sangs offered them jobs, good money," Molly said, standing next to the brunette woman named Pilar. "Then they came back and wanted more men, promising that the first ones would come back, but they never did. It's the same story in all the surrounding villages. The Sangs have taken all the men and forced them to work in the mines."

"All that is left is the very old and the very young," Pilar said tearfully, "And they will soon come for them, too. I _know_ this."

"We _all_ know this," a young blonde echoed tearfully.

"Why don't you just move on?" Christmas asked grimly. Barney didn't miss the look of disgust that flashed across Molly's face.

"This is our home," Pilar said firmly, "Our lives will be the _last_ thing they take."

Molly put one of her hands on Pilar's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Tell us why you are here, now," Pilar requested.

"We're trackin' 'em," was all Barney offered.

"Can't you stay, and help?" Pilar pleaded, "You saw the children! Soon the Sang will be done and they'll kill them all!" Pilar's eyes swept up to Molly's, "Please, Molly!"

"We have out own business with them," Barney said gruffly. None of the Expendables looked too pleased at that. "Let's go," he turned.

"I'm staying, Barney," Molly said grimly. Barney gave her a disbelieving look.

"Booker..." he trailed off.

"I'll tell you where the mine is, but I'm not leaving them," Molly said stubbornly. Barney sighed heavily.

"Fine. We'll see you when we get back."

* * *

"They're not gonna last very much longer," Christmas murmured, trying to reason with Barney as they left the building.

"I think they know that," Barney said gruffly, attempting to staunch his annoyance at Molly's insubordination.

"And we're not gonna do anything about it?" Christmas pressed.

"I've got an idea," Barney admitted, "And with your ego, I think you're gonna love it."

"_My_ ego?" Christmas scoffed.

"Your ego," Barney confirmed before turning around, "Hey! Booker! Come give us the run down of this place!"

They couldn't very well defend it if they didn't know its weak points.

The scowl on Molly's face turned into a grin and she practically skipped over.

"I knew you wouldn't leave 'em hangin'," she said cheerily, pecking his cheek in a rare show of affection.

Barney fought down the blush that threatened to rise on his cheeks.

"You drive a hell of a bargain, kid."

* * *

"You should be sleeping," Barney told her the next morning. The sun wasn't even on the lightening horizon, and everything was bathed with a blueish light. Molly was sitting in one of the church arches, a woolen blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"So should you, O Fearless Leader," she retorted with a small smile.

"Ran into your dad yesterday. Thanks for sending him to save our asses," Barney leaned in the adjacent arch. The cold of the stone seeped through his clothes and into his skin.

"Well, I couldn't very well let you die," she said simply, "I heard from my step ma last night. She says Billy's fine."

Barney nodded once.

"What about you?"

Molly peered around the stone divide to give him a quizzical look.

"_Me_?"

"You didn't exactly leave everybody on the best of terms, Booker, hell, Gunnar and Hale had half a mind to hunt you down and bring you back."

"I did what I had to do, Barney," her voice had gotten cold and distant, "I needed to take care of my family."

"Your dad was gone the entire time you were there," Barney pointed out. She glared hard at him.

"So what?" she sneered.

"Nothing," Barney sighed exasperatedly, leaning back.

They sat in silence and watched the sun rise up over the trees. The sky was still pink and purple when the bell started ringing.

"That our cue?" Barney asked her.

"Yep. Let's go kill something." Barney chose not to comment on the manic glee that seemed to have settled onto her face.

* * *

Killing the Sang was almost too easy. Molly hadn't been in a fight for months, and _damn_ it felt good to be shooting people again.

Her blood was practically singing with adrenaline by the time they'd cleared the village.

"One more!" Barney barked. Without even thinking, Molly spun and emptied her clip into the poor bastard that had dared enter the courtyard.

Her teammates had had the same idea. The man fell, his torso shredded with bullets.

"Rest in pieces," Barney sneered. Molly rolled her eyes.

"Really, Barney, _that's_ what you go with? 'Rest in pieces'?" she scoffed. Barney gave her an irate look.

"Alright, Booker, what would you have said?"

"Oh, Barney, there are so many things you could have gone with. 'Eat lead, motherf*cker,' 'That's what we call overkill,' But, unfortunately, the moment's passed, and _we_ have to get to the mines," she said simply.

* * *

It only took about a twenty minute ride by jeep and ten minutes of climbing to reach a decent overwatch of the mine. The Expendables climbed down while Barney and Christmas surveyed the mine with sets of nifty binoculars.

"Dozen guys, fifty cal, and some anti tank. Jeep will never get through there," Christmas said gravely, "I know this is a stupid question, but have you got any ideas that _won't_ get us killed?"

"I do," Molly volunteered as Gunnar helped her off of the mountainside. They all waited patiently while she unclipped the D clip from her climbing harness.

"Don't keep us in suspense, Booker," Barney drawled. She got a broad, shit-eating grin on her face and Barney just _knew_ he wasn't going to like what came out of her mouth next.

* * *

"_You_ _flew my plane?!_" Barney squawked as Molly paced around Santa Claus. She gave him an amused grin.

"It was either that or walk to the village. You guys took my jeep," she pointed out. Barney sulked.

"If you hurt-"

"Re_lax_, Ross, I've seen you and Christmas fly plenty of times. It wasn't too hard," she brushed off his concerns. Barney bristled as he did the pre flight check.

"You were in the Airborne, weren't you?" Christmas asked under his breath. Molly sent him a broad grin.

"Yep. Those boys taught me how to play chicken. I was pretty good too," she said proudly. Christmas snickered at her ability to rile Barney up. "I've gotta make a phone call. Don't let him fly off without me," Molly said, pulling out her phone and walking out of earshot.

* * *

The ride was silent. Maggie's hands shook as she tried to buckle herself in. Molly batted her hands away impatiently and tightened up the straps.

"Thank you," Maggie said, looking up at the younger woman. Molly offered her a grim smile.

"You've never been in an air battle before, have you?" Molly said, dropping into the seat next to her and buckling herself in.

"No," Maggie admitted. Molly gave her a smirk before making the sign of the cross on her chest.

"You're in for a hell of a ride, Miss Chan."

* * *

Both women stayed put as Christmas began firing out the nose of the plane and Hale dropped a few drums of gasoline out onto the burning bridge.

"Hang on!" Barney shouted from the cockpit.

"You're not doing what I think you're doing!" Christmas bellowed at him.

"Yes I am!" Barney disagreed. Molly gripped her seat tightly, screwing her eyes shut as the plane gave a sickening lurch.

You know those moments that seem to drag on and on, even though in reality, it's mere seconds? Crashing Santa Claus was like that. Her head slammed into the wall of the plane, then she was jerked sideways, into Maggie, the nylon seat belt straps dug painfully into her skin. All she could hear was Barney shouting obscenities and the sound of wings being sheared off.

Molly must have lost conscious for a moment, because the next thing she remembered was Maggie's distant voice.

Molly's ears rang as Maggie unbuckled her from the seat.

"Are you hurt?" Maggie asked seriously as gun shots went off. The team had just executed a bunch of Sang that had been preparing to shoot all of the miners.

"No. Where's the plutonium?" Molly asked, her tongue feeling too big for her mouth. Her ears were still ringing. Maggie went pale and jetted forward.

"We're too late! It's gone!"

Barney's curse was swallowed by the sound of an explosion.

"Go!" Molly screamed at them. The miners led the way down a set of stone steps, into a deep mine shaft.

Gunnar yanked Molly forward as rocks piled up in the entrance. She let out a long breath and patted his shoulder in thanks.

"We're gonna be here a while," Barney said grimly.

* * *

"It doesn't seem right," Toll murmured, looking up at the blockade.

"Going out this chickenshit way?" Hale suggested.

"Something like that," Toll agreed. Molly was leaned up against the rocks, one hand fisted over her dog tags. Her face was very pale.

"You alright there, Booker?" Hale called. Her dark eyes snapped up to meet his. It was the most shaken they had ever seen her.

"I guess I have a thing about dying of suffocation in a collapsed mine," she breathed out through her nose. She gave them a weak grin. "Helluva way to die."

"Hey! It ain't over yet, kids, I've got a plan!" Gunnar said happily, pulling out a knife. Molly raised a brow at the Swede as he walked over to one of the cavern walls. "Phosphate rock," he said, looking at her as if that explained everything.

"What's he doing?" Christmas muttered to Barney.

"Probably making a bomb," Barney shrugged.

"You serious?" Christmas deadpanned.

"Ask him," Barney challenged.

"Whatcha doin', Gunnar?" Christmas called.

"Makin' a bomb!" Gunnar replied impatiently, scraping the rock into a piece of pipe, "You mind?"

Molly grinned.

"Maniac with brains," Barney offered.

"Scary," Christmas drawled.

"Mind schooling us lesser educated folks, Gunnar?" Molly asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"Phosphate rock has got a density of 1.853, melting point 44.2 centigrade. Guys, I want some gunpowder, fast," Gunnar thrust the pipe at Hale and Toll. "You got a fuse in that magic bag, Molly?" he asked.

"I'm a medic, Gunnar, not a demolitions expert," she said dryly, "But I _do_ have some alcohol and gauze strips. Will that work?"

Gunnar made a noise of assent in the back of his throat and she dug them out of her bag, passing them over.

"Everybody get back!" Gunnar bellowed, taking Barney's lighter and placing the bomb against the cave in. The miners all scrambled backwards.

"Turn around or you'll get your heads blown off," Gunnar advised, passing Molly the unused gauze. "And cover your ear," he shot at Toll.

Molly watched interestedly as the fire disappeared down the pipe. She waited for one beat, then the pipe fell over.

"Well, it must have been damp," Gunnar said dejectedly.

"Or you suck," Hale suggested.

"There's that," Toll agreed.

"It's alright, Big Guy," Molly squeezed his elbow. Gunnar offered her a sad smile as a loud rumbling shook the cavern.

Adrenaline shot through her veins. Maybe this was it. She would get her quick death by another cave in, instead of the slow, painful suffocation.

_Here's lookin' at you, God,_ she thought grimly, bracing herself.


	28. Chapter 28

Molly's eyes snapped open in time to see the rotors of a heavy drilling machine break through the wall of rock.

Relief flooded through her as the machine powered down. Trench Mauser stuck his head out of the machine.

"I'm back," he said through his cigar. Barney deflated.

"How're ya doin', Trench?" he asked grimly. Molly elbowed him.

"What he means to say, is 'Thank you for coming and rescuing us from certain death,'" Molly grinned.

"Hey! Don't go inflating his ego anymore than it already is!" Barney complained, picking up his gun.

* * *

"We're even now, right?" Trench asked Barney. He nodded.

"How'd you even know where we were?" he wondered. Trench laughed.

"Your medic, she called my demolitions man, said that you may be getting into a rough spot. I figured I might as well help, seeing as she _did_ sew up my leg after I got shot," Trench commented, grinning.

Barney scowled as he watched Molly hug the dark haired Scot, a few yards away. He would have to talk to her about going behind his back.

"Well, thanks. I'll be seeing you around," Barney said in a clipped tone.

"Relax, it's not over yet," Trench stated.

"What?"

"That's right," Trench spoke as a black Hummer pulled up. Church got out of it. "How did you think I found you?"

"How ya doin', pal?" Church greeted.

"I _was_ doing pretty good," Barney grumbled. He was going to kill Molly. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard there was a party in town."

"Yeah, but it's _my_ party," Barney did _not_ want to have to deal with the CIA on this one.

"Has he always been this selfish?" Church wondered.

"Always," Trench confirmed.

"Don't be too mad with the Booker girl, Barney, if she hadn't called Danny over there, you'd still be underground," Church clapped him on the arm.

"Hey, Church, you got any nail strips?" Molly wondered, glancing at her watch. The convoy bearing the plutonium and Vilain would be there any time.

"Yeah, look in the back," Church said.

Hastily, Danny helped Molly spread out a few nail strips across the road leading into the parking lot of the airport. They wouldn't stop _all_ of the trucks, but it would slow them down.

The lead driver was obviously stubborn as hell, because he floored it as soon as the front tires hit the nail strips.

Molly watched as the rims made sparks fly across the pavement.

"We are so f*cked," she said, stuffing another few ammo magazines into her pocket.

* * *

As Barney, Church, and Trench shot through the frosted windows of the airport, Molly was behind them, trying to unjam her rifle slide.

"Watch out for the goddamn civilians!" she snarled.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Little Wolf," Trench shot over his shoulder as they ducked behind a wide, circular desk for cover.

"My panties are _ none_ of your business, Trench Mauser," she spat viciously, shrinking behind the desk as bullets peppered their position.

Whoever was shooting paused. Molly's eyes lifted to the figure on the balcony.

"It's about f*cking _time_, Dad!" she shouted at John Booker.

"Patience is a virtue, Marie," he called back. She rolled her eyes as she stood and fired upon the remaining Sang in the room.

* * *

"Job well done, gentlemen," Molly said, looking around all the dead bodies. She slung her gun over her shoulder and looked around, searching for her father and the rest of the team. "Anybody hurt?" she called.

Bruised bones and grazes were all there were to tend to. The CIA boys that Church had brought with him were a lot whinier than any mercenaries she'd ever handled.

"Please tell me, Danny, that you are here bearing news of our imminent departure," she said sarcastically when the demo man approached.

"Actually, I was told by yer Swede tha' ye were lackin' fuse," he said, brandishing a spool of thick, green string.

Molly took it and shoved it into her musette bag.

"Much obliged. You seen Barney anywhere?" she asked as they began to walk outside. Helicopters were landing and behind loaded up with men.

"He was giving a dismembered head to Church and Trench," Danny said cheerfully. Molly cringed in disgust.

"Nasty. I'd better go find out my marching orders. See ya later," she tapped two fingers to her brow in a lazy salute.

* * *

"Lieutenant Booker, _just_ the person I wanted to see," Church said jovially. Molly raised her brow as Barney and Maggie said goodbye a few yards away.

"That's not very comforting, Mr. Church," she said grimly.

"Just hear him out, Marie," John Booker spoke from within the helicopter.

"Where the hell are _you_ going?" Molly scoffed.

"Your boss just killed all my business," Booker pointed out to his daughter. Molly bristled, preparing to chew him out.

"Look, Lieutenant, the CIA is severely lacking in able medics-"

"I'm not going to go back into action, Mr. Church, I've had enough of watching kids get killed," Molly cut him off.

"I want you to _train_ them, that is, if Barney can bear to let you go," Church said simply. Molly pursed her lips.

"Thanks for the offer, sir, but I ain't fit for ranks and orders anymore. I've already got a team."

"Well, if you ever change your mind..."

"I won't," Molly said firmly. She peered around Church, "Dana know you're moving her?"

"She will soon enough. They're gonna drop me off. You wanna come?"

"Actually, I've got you and the Little Rascals a ride home," Church spoke to Barney.

* * *

Molly climbed into the bi-plane and sat down in the back.

"You know where you're going, Barney?" she called to the front. He waved his hand.

"Yeah, yeah, Molly, I'll get us there."

* * *

John Booker was already embracing his family when the Expendables made the hike up to the cabin.

"Lolly!" Adrian broke away from John to run up to Molly. Christmas took her gun from her just in time for her to catch him in mid air.

"Hey, kid, you been behaving for Ma?" she asked sternly, letting him rest on her hip as she continued forward.

Adrian nodded eagerly.

"Your friend is sleeping, Molly," Dana said gently as Molly set Adrian down on the ground. Molly glanced back at Barney.

"I'm gonna go check on him," she said swiftly before ducking inside. She kicked off her mud splattered boots in the entryway and headed on down the hall.

Billy was sleeping on the mattress, the blankets drawn up to his chest. Molly leaned in the doorway, her arms folded over her chest.

He looked almost childlike in sleep. There was no tension on his face, and his brow was free of wrinkles.

Molly was just about to go back outside when he spoke.

"You gonna stand there watching me or come tell me everybody's alive?" he murmured, opening his brilliantly blue eyes.

"You're supposed to be asleep," Molly said, easing into the room. He smiled and started to sit up. "Hey, you stay right there, mister, you'll tear your stitches!" Molly said severely, dropping to her knees by the bed.

Billy rolled his eyes as she lifted the hem of his t shirt up enough to investigate the white gauze. She peeled it back to reveal white, spongy skin. The red line and black sutures were an ugly mar upon the flesh.

"Everybody ok?" Billy asked as she checked over him.

"Yeah. Barney got the hell beat out of him by Vilain, but he'll live. I think they're staying for supper before they head home. If you promise to stay still, you can come out and sit on the couch," Molly said.

"You gonna come with us?" Billy asked warily, trying to meet her gaze. She kept her eyes trained on his injury.

"I don't know."

* * *

Hale and Gunnar made supper a lively affair by recounting old exploits. Adrian refused to sit anywhere but on Toll's lap. Dana was a little unnerved by all the big, bulky men who had taken up residence in her living room, so she was glued to her husband and step daughter's sides.

Barney and John sat quietly, drinking their beers, smiling lightly.

"So, what's the verdict, Kid, can you make the flight home?" Barney asked when conversation died down. Billy glanced at Molly, who held a glass of water in one hand.

"That's up to the nurse," he said simply. Molly met Barney's eyes.

"He'll be fine," she shrugged.

As Hale began ribbing Billy about being a 'good patient', Barney jerked his head towards the door. Molly handed her glass of water to Dana and followed her leader outside.

The sun had set, but the sky was still light. Molly could see a single, bright star on the northern horizon.

"So, you coming back to Louisiana with us?" Barney asked bluntly. It was one thing she had always appreciated about him as a leader. Barney Ross never minced words.

"If you've got room in your plane," she shrugged.

"There gonna be any problems with you and Billy?" Barney cocked a brow. Molly pressed her lips together and looked away from him. "Come on, Booker, you two haven't said a word to each other all night-"

"It won't be an issue," she snapped.

"Alright," Barney nodded. He trusted her implicitly. If she said there wouldn't be a problem, he would believe her. Molly wasn't one to stir the pot.

* * *

That night, camp was set up in the living room. Billy tried to argue Molly into taking her bed back.

"Of the two of us, Kid, which one was brutally stabbed in the stomach?" she asked patiently, shoving her belongings into her duffel bag. She didn't want to waste time packing in the morning.

"Come on, Molly-" she turned and he was right there, less than an inch away from her. Molly took an immediate step back into the cabinet. Billy's hand snatched out to steady her. She jerked away from him. "I don't want things to be weird between us," Billy stated. Her cheeks burned.

"Then they won't be," she said firmly, stepping past him, "you should lay down, or you'll tear your stitches."

"Stay in touch, Marie," John Booker told his daughter sternly, giving her an impersonal, awkward side hug.

"You, too, Dad," she said.

Nobody failed to notice how stiffly polite they were being to one another.

Dana hugged Molly tightly.

"Be safe, _fiica mea_," that, for some reason, made Molly's eyes get over bright. She gave Dana another squeeze.

"_Te iubesc_," Molly said firmly before crouching down to a crying Adrian.

"Don't go, Lolly, _please_!" he flung his arms around her neck. Molly rubbed her brother's back comfortingly.

"Hey, now, Adrian, no crying. I'll see you soon, I promise. You guys can come and visit me, how does that sound?"

He nodded once, sniffling.

"Alright. You be good, now," she said, straightening.

"Molly, take Chinook," Dana looked down at the Rottweiler. Molly frowned, looking from Barney to her father and back at her step mother.

"As long as it doesn't crap in my plane," Barney said gruffly.

"He's getting old. He's not much of a guard dog any more," Booker agreed. Molly grinned and whistled for Chinook. He trotted up beside her obediently, his tail stub wagging.

"I'll see you when I see you," she told Dana and Adrian.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Thanks so much to everybody who reviewed!**

* * *

Tool was waiting for them in the hangar. He scooped Molly into a rough bear hug.

"Christ, Molls, it's good to see you!" he enthused, setting her back on her feet. Molly only grinned as she helped Billy ease out of the plane. Gunnar heaved Chinook out and set him on the ground.

"Thanks," Molly flashed a smile back at him, "Come on, Kid, I'll give you a ride home," she said, letting the sniper lean heavily on her. He was pale and gaunt, but he hadn't complained at all.

* * *

"Now, those stitches can probably come out in a few days, but no heavy lifting or exercise. Unless you have to get up to use the bathroom or get food, I want your ass parked on that couch," Molly said sternly.

Billy nodded once at her and she cracked a smile.

"Out of all the guys, Billy, you're probably the easiest patient," she informed him. He smiled back at her. "I'll call to check in, so keep your phone on you."

* * *

Once Molly showered and put clean clothes on, she went to the grocery store. The Louisiana sun beat down on the back of her neck.

After spending months in the cold mountains of Albania, it sure was nice to be back under the sun.

Molly was investigating a few apples when a wolf whistle made her head whip around.

Hale and Toll were filling their carts with frozen suppers.

She set the apples back down on the rack and ambled over to them.

"Hey, strangers," she smirked.

"You get the Kid all tucked in?" Hale leered at her Molly rolled her eyes at him.

"Yes. Now, what kind of evil is this? You're get back from an entire mission of K-rations and now you're eating _frozen _food and canned ravioli?" she shook her head in disgust.

"Well, none of us grew up with a grandmother who taught us how to cook," Toll said sarcastically.

"Poor, unfortunate souls," Molly's eyes twinkled, "I'll tell ya what, tomorrow night, everybody can come over and I'll cook something."

"I think you're my favorite person right now," Toll said simply.

* * *

Much to her surprise, Hale was the first one to show up the next day, in the middle of the afternoon. She had been cleaning up her garden, planting new vegetables and pulling the weeds out when he pulled up on his bike.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Not too much. You're early," Molly rose and wiped her hands on her dirt smeared jeans.

"Well, I want to watch how you do it," he said plainly.

_Hale Caesar, Mr. Macho himself, wants to learn how I cook? _

"Alright, let me go get cleaned up. There's beer in the fridge."

* * *

Molly took a fast shower and put on clean jeans and a baggy Johnny Cash t-shirt. Hale was sipping a beer at her breakfast bar and looking through her box of recipes.

"You ready?" she asked, tying on a flowery apron. Hale grinned toothily.

"You bet your ass."

* * *

By the time that everybody began to arrive, Molly's kitchen had filled with the smell of garlic and oregano.

"Molly! Omigosh! I missed you _so_ much!" Lacey flung her arms around the young woman in a tight hug. Molly patted her back awkwardly.

"Uh, you, too, Lacey."

"So, where did you go? Was it a nice, warm beach, filled with buff guys with sexy accents?" Lacey asked eagerly. Molly's cheeks burned as Hale sniggered by the stove.

"Hey!" Christmas called, affronted.

"I was just _wondering_!" Lacey pouted. Molly was saved from answering by the knock on her door. She sprinted out of her kitchen to answer it.

Barney and Billy stood there. Both held cases of beer.

"Billy Timmons, I thought I told you no heavy lifting!" Molly scolded, taking the beer from him.

"Hello, Molly, you look wonderful. I'm fine, thanks for asking. It's nice to see you, too," he said sarcastically. "And it's just beer," he pointed out, stepping past her.

"Kid's got a point, Booker. It smells good in here," Barney said, closing the door behind him.

"Thanks," she rolled her eyes and followed him into the kitchen. "Anybody know if Tool's showing up?" she called over the chatter.

"He's on his way," Barney confirmed as she went to check on the garlic bread in the oven.

* * *

It had been a long time since Molly felt so lighthearted. Having her kitchen filled with her laughing, teasing teammates was wonderful for her to see.

"It's good to have you back, Molly," Tool told her quietly as a few people roared with laughter at a story Hale had recounted.

"It's good to be back," she said sincerely.

And it was. Molly Booker was glad to finally be home.


	30. A Tale of Woe and Heartbreak

**A/N: Well, chapter thirty! I kinda feel like doing a little victory dance because this story is now twenty nine chapters longer than I originally intended it to be! Thanks to everybody who has reviewed/favorited/followed. Seriously, you guys are swell. :)**

* * *

"Hale, if you make him laugh one more time..." Molly didn't even bother to finish her threat. Billy was lying flat on his back, his shirt hiked up enough for Molly to see the week and a half old sutures.

Of course, though, the rest of the guys were making wisecracks, causing Billy to laugh. They had all gathered at Tool's before going to the bar.

Molly was, uncharacteristically, wearing a pair of jeans that could have been painted on and a form fitting, black tank top that exposed her tattoos and scars. Her hair was knotted messily at the nape of her neck and silver hoops dangled from her earlobes. Her dog tags were tucked under her shirt.

A pair of white, latex gloves were fitted to her hands as she delicately pulled out the stitches in Billy's abdomen.

"Go on, we'll meet you at the bar," Barney wisely kicked the team out of the shop, "You gonna be much longer, Molly?"

"Nah, go on. I'll only be a few more minutes," she assured him. Barney left, leaving Molly, Billy, and Tool alone in the shop.

True to her word, it only took a few more minutes for Molly to finish taking out the stitches and bandage him back up.

"Now, it goes without saying that you will not participate in _any_ bar fights or shenanigans like that, right?" Molly said sternly as he straightened his shirt.

"Yes, ma'am," his blue eyes twinkled, "You wanna ride with me?"

Molly scoffed.

"Billy, it will be a cold day in hell before I get on one of those death traps," she said, referring to his motorcycle.

"Come on, Molly, it's only a few blocks, we'll go slow, I promise!"

"A few blocks is _plenty_ enough time to get into an accident, Billy the Kid. No, you go on, and I'll drive my truck," she said stubbornly.

Billy sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes at her.

* * *

"Oh, look, you survived," Molly scoffed when he got off his bike in the parking lot of Old Point.

"I suppose I did," Billy patted himself, as if to be sure he was really there. Molly grinned crookedly. "Come on, I'll buy ya a drink," he offered her his arm gallantly.

She took it and they walked into the bar.

Molly took a seat across from Gunnar as Billy went to get them drinks. Hale was lost in a fit of giggles, so she looked to Toll for an explanation.

"They're discussing women and their screw ups regarding them," Toll said dryly, turning a page in his book.

"We'll be here all night, then," Molly smirked as Billy pulled up a chair next to her. He set a glass bottle of Cola down in front of her. "Thanks, Kid," she smiled.

* * *

"She worked at this disco, right? So I _quit_ MIT to work as a bouncer-" Gunnar belched obnoxiously. Molly snorted. Her team was fully inebriated and their laughter had gotten more and more raucous with every passing drink.

"I don't know why she ever let you go, Gunnar," Molly drawled. Gunnar nodded clumsily at her.

"Thank you for that, Molly," he slurred, pointing his finger at her. She inclined her head respectfully at him.

"How about you, Molly?" Hale asked from a few seats down. She immediately went on guard. Billy, even in his drunken state, noticed how she squared her shoulders, like she was about to march into battle.

"Hmm?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Got any tales of woe and heartbreak?" Hale persisted. The other guys got quiet and looked at her. Molly took a long drink of her cola.

"I didn't really have a lot of time for dating, Hale," she said, trying to avoid the subject. He gave her a skeptical look.

"Come on, Molly, level with me. You weren't so damn scared of Jason Elwes because he decided to get a little mittsy with you," Hale was unaware that he had crossed a line. Molly's brown eyes got flinty. Barney leaned forward in his seat, ready to play mediator if Molly decided to react. He was surprised when she began to speak in a level tone.

"Well, I got put on the fast track in high school, that's how I got my degree so early...I was sixteen when a senior boy asked me to prom. I bought a new dress and got all dolled up, and he came and picked me up in this _hideous_, jacked up, puke yellow pick up truck. He had been trying to paint it gold, but he screwed up the colors. We got on our way, and I made the mistake of actually thinking we were going to the dance," she smiled wryly, but nobody found any amusement in her tale.

"He pulled over on this back road and tried to stick his hand up my skirt. I broke his nose and he kicked me out of the truck and drove off. It was about an eight mile walk home. I enlisted the next day. The U.S. Military sent me to school a few hundred miles away, and I ain't ever been back."

By the time she finished her story, the men had sobered up.

"I need a drink, and if you don't have that pitying look out of your eyes by the time I get back, I'm going to kick somebody's ass," she threatened as she stood.

Barney lowered his eyes to his half finished beer. He felt something hot and uncomfortable twisting in his stomach. He realized it was rage. Everything about Molly was thrown into a sharper focus. It all made sense.

He no longer had to wonder why she had kept them all at arm's length for so long. With what happened to her old unit, coupled with the dipshit in the ugly yellow pick up, it was no wonder why she had been so distant.

Barney's eyes swept around the table. Their faces all mirrored their shock at her curtness with the subject. Tool, who was directly to his left, didn't look at all surprised, though.

"You knew," Barney spoke quietly so none of the others would hear him. Tool didn't meet his eyes, focusing intently on his peeling beer label. He nodded once.

"Booker told me when he asked if you needed a medic. He didn't want it to impair her work."

"And you didn't tell me?" Barney demanded, feeling annoyance flicker.

"I would have if I thought it would be a problem, Barney, but you saw her when she joined up!" Tool protested.

* * *

_Barney surveyed the young woman. Her red/blonde hair was plaited down her back. She wore a pair of olive fatigues and a black t shirt. _

_ There were dark bruises under her eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a broken woman. _

_ "Lieutenant Marie Booker?" Barney rose and shook her hand. She had a firm grip and calloused palms. She met his gaze boldly. _

_ "Just Molly. I was discharged. Not a lieutenant anymore," Her voice was hoarse. _

_ "Booker says you're a hell of a medic," Barney stated, retaking his seat and gesturing for her to sit across the table from him. _

_ "I managed," her tone was clipped. Barney raised a brow. Lieutenant Marie Booker didn't seem to be a talker. That was fine by him. _

_ "Why were you discharged?" he cut right to the point. She didn't even blink. _

_ "The shrink decided I wasn't fit for combat," so she wasn't a liar; That was good to know. _

_ "Are you?" _

_ "Would you like me to show you the targets from the shooting range?"_

_ Barney groaned internally. He had enough smart asses on the team. _

_ "Ability isn't anything if you can't handle combat," he said evenly. _

_ "I spent the last three years on a godforsaken base in Iraq with a spec ops unit. I've seen hell. Don't tell me I can't handle combat," her eyes blazed as she showed the first sign of emotion. _

_ "Alright. That's fair enough. I'll talk to my team, see what they think. They'll probably wanna meet you." _

_ "Tell me when and where." _

* * *

Looking back, Barney really couldn't blame him. Molly Booker had shown no signs of being unfit or hazardous to the team, so why should her dirty laundry be aired about?

Barney's eyes glanced over at the bar. Molly was waiting for her drink, looking unbothered by the bombshell she'd just dropped on her team.

As if feeling his gaze, she glanced over her shoulder. Her dark eyes met his own and she gave him a wry smile and a loose salute. He felt the corners of his lips curling upwards at her.

The bartender slid her tumbler of J.D. Forward and gave her a nod.

"Thanks, James," she nodded, picking it up.

"Take care of yourself, Molly," he told her before moving on to the next order. She turned and her nose was immediately assaulted with the overwhelming smell of Axe.

"Oops, sorry, little lady," a man who was probably a few years older than herself apologized. Molly's hand tightened around her whiskey, keeping it steady.

"It's no problem," she said quickly, twisting to move past him. His wide, sweaty hand caught her elbow.

"That's some nice ink you got there, gorgeous," his eyes drifted to the 'Steadfast' over her heart. Molly knew he wasn't really interested in her tattoo.

"Thanks," she tried to step past him again, but his grip didn't lessen.

"Lemme buy you a drink," he leered. Molly repressed the urge to roll her eyes and settled for sighing exasperatedly. If this joker didn't let her go, she would have to put her whiskey down to kick his ass and all she _really_ wanted to do was go home and take a shower.

"I have a drink, thanks, and about seven guys waiting for me at that table over there," she jerked her head towards the table in the far back corner. The man scoffed and pulled her closer.

"Come on, princess-"

Molly downed her whiskey in one swig before dropping the glass and slugging the man right in the solar plexus. As he doubled over, she caught his ears and brought up her knee, slamming his face into her patella. She felt the soft bone of his nose shatter.

The man let out a shriek as he crumpled to the floor. The entire bar had gone silent. Molly nonchalantly brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"You bitch!" the man wailed, clutching his bloody nose. Molly crouched down on the balls of her feet.

"It's not nice to grab people, mister. Didn't your ma ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?"

She stood and took a few steps back towards her table. Billy had half risen from his seat, as if to assist her.

"You might wanna get that looked at, hon," she threw over her shoulder. The bar was still silently watching as she dropped back into her seat. One of the man's friends had begun to peel him off the floor.

"You alright?" Billy asked tensely. A twisted smile curled her lips upwards.

"Never better, Kid."


	31. An Itch on the Heart

A few weeks later found them on their knees in front of some angry Somali pirates. Blood was oozing from Molly's hairline, mixing with the sweat on her face. Her chest rose and fell with her deep, steady breaths. Her eyes were cold and distant.

Barney prayed she never looked at him the way she was looking at the leader of the pirates.

Molly spoke slowly in some foreign tongue and the butt of a rifle was brought down hard on her face. She lurched forward, her face landing in the dust. Molly laid there for a moment, regaining her senses. She straightened clumsily and glared defiantly up at the leader.

"I do not like women who don't know their place," he said in heavily accented English.

"And where would that be?" Molly sneered. He gave her a lecherous grin and she spat at his feet.

"Booker, _knock it off_!" Barney snapped as the pirate pressed his machete to the curve of her neck.

"If you're gonna kill me, darlin', I'd rather you get on with it," she smirked. The knife trailed down, hooking in the ball chain around her neck.

"Hmm, you are a military woman, yes?"

Molly said nothing. The pirate fisted his hand in her hair and wrenched her up.

"Yes, you are strong, but my men will soon break you of that."

The blood drained from Molly's face.

She was still trying to think of a comeback when a window shattered and the pirate crumpled, releasing her.

The other pirates began to shout and look around, but one by one, they all dropped dead. Within minutes, the tied up Expendables were the only ones still alive.

"Everybody alright?" Barney called, twisting his wrists roughly to try and break the zip ties. Molly rolled back up onto her knees and, with some difficulty, managed to find her feet.

"I think we should be more concerned about who the hell shot these guys," Christmas commented.

"They left us alive," Toll pointed out. The door of the building eased open and a familiar face stuck his head in.

"_Tool_?!" Molly yelped.

"Hey, beautiful. Need some help?"

"What the f*ck, old man? You're retired!" Molly spluttered as he came forward, flicking a knife out to cut through the zip ties.

"Well, when you didn't check in, your employer got a little antsy. I said I'd come and check it out. I'm glad I did!"

"Me, too!" Gunnar scoffed.

"How the hell did you get here?"

"Well, Yang got his hands on a helicopter, a Huey. So, we tracked your coordinates," Tool explained.

"When did he get back from Beijing?" Molly asked, collecting her gun and musette bag from the corner, where all of their confiscated weapons had been deposited.

"Yesterday. You get what you came for?" Tool asked. Barney held up the wooden box as evidence.

"Let's skin outta here, then."

* * *

With relative ease, they made their way back to Santa 2.0 and the Huey. They were surprised when Billy met them there, a rifle slung over his shoulder. Molly's face got very red.

"James O'Toole! Why in the _hell_ did you let him come!? He's got a hole in his gut!"

"You really think I was going to fight with him, Molly?" Tool scoffed.

"And _you!_ You know better, William Timmons! You're benched for another two weeks!" she poked him roughly in the shoulder.

"Take it easy, Molly, I stayed back!" Billy pointed out. Molly cocked an unimpressed brow at him. "And I saved your life! If I hadn't shot that pirate, who knows what he would have done!"

Molly let out a disgusted groan and climbed into Christmas 2.0.

* * *

Molly dropped her head as the hot water sprayed down her back. Her dog tags were heavy against her bare skin. The water spiraled as it was sucked down the drain.

When the hot water ran out, she forced herself to remain under the cold spray for a few minutes before she finally turned it off.

She dried off, not in any real hurry, and pulled on her pajamas.

Molly was feeling very lethargic when she ambled downstairs to make a quick supper before she went to bed.

Chinook wasn't in his dog bed by the back door. Unease prickled the back of her neck. The floor creaked behind her.

Molly whirled around, but the invader took a hasty step back, ducking out of the way of her fist.

"Take it easy, Booker!" Toll complained. Molly slumped against the wall. "You really need to find a better hiding place for your spare key," he tossed it at her.

"It was on the other side of the house!" Molly protested.

"It only took me about five minutes to find it. I let your dog out, by the way," Toll added. Molly grumbled expletives as she brushed past him to go and call out the door for Chinook.

"What are you even doing here?" she asked impatiently. It wasn't like Toll to just drop in. No, that sort of thing was reserved for Barney, Tool, and Billy. The rest of the team knew well enough not to invade her personal space.

"I finished that book you lent me, the Book Thief. I came to give it back," he said, holding the battered paperback up for her to see.

"Oh, thanks. How'd you like it?" she took it from him and went into the front room where all of her books were placed on floor to ceiling shelves.

"It was depressing," Toll said grimly, following her into the open spaced room. His eyes glanced over the sunflower guitar that was propped up in a stand in one corner.

"I know. I felt like crying when I finished it," Molly shot him a wry smile over her shoulder as she tucked the book back into its rightful place on her shelf. Toll was silent for a moment.

"How bad is your concussion?" he asked suddenly. Her eyes narrowed at him. "Don't try to bullshit me, Molly. I may not be a medic, but I've had enough concussions to know the symptoms. You looked like you were going to hurl the entire flight home and your pupils are unevenly dilated."

A muscle jumped in her jaw.

"It's mild, nothing to worry about," she brushed off his concerns, "I've got some apple pie in the fridge. You want a piece?"

"Sure."

* * *

So, the two sat at her antique kitchen table and ate the apple pie. Molly ate hers cold, but had warmed Toll's up in the microwave at his request.

There was a lull in their discussion about books when Toll asked the question that had been nestled at the back of his mind for the last nine months.

"Is everything ok with you and Billy?"

Molly let her fork drop with a clatter and she chewed her pie deliberately. Her coffee bean colored eyes had gone steely.

"Why do you ask?" her voice was painfully calm, and Toll knew that. Gunnar and Hale always teased him for having his nose in a book, but he was well aware of the team dynamics.

He knew when Gunnar was in danger of falling off the wagon, he knew the look Hale got after he had spoken to one of his family members. He knew when Christmas was upset about Lacey or something was bugging Barney.

He also knew when there were certain things Molly did not want to discuss. This was one of those things.

Toll shrugged, lowering his eyes back to his pie. It had cooled and was now room temperature.

"You two have just been weird since we got back from Albania..." Toll trailed off at her icy eyes.

"Everything's fine, Toll," she rose and picked up her dishes.

"Well, I just found it odd that you decided to leave right after Billy went to propose to his girlfriend."

"You got somethin' to say, Toll, then say it. Quit dancing around," she snapped.

"I think you should take your chance to be happy, Molly," Toll said honestly. Molly scoffed disgustedly as she began to wash dishes.

"Happiness is one of life's lies, Toll. We're born, we live, we die. Nobody is ever happy about it."

"You can't really believe that," Toll shook his head.

"You ever seen somebody get their happily ever after?" she asked darkly. He didn't answer. He couldn't. "Yeah, I didn't think so. It's a bad idea to date co workers, so I ain't gonna cross that line."

* * *

"_Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out." _

-Markus Zusak, The Book Thief


	32. Drunk Dialing and Scheming Mercenaries

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews and follows! And thanks to Mopargirl1 for helping me work out the knots in the story! :D**

* * *

A few nights later, Molly had dozed off in her easy chair, a book open in her lap and Chinook at her feet.

Her cell phone vibrated on the end table, jolting her from her light sleep. Chinook looked up, alarmed.

"S'alright, hon," she muttered sleepily, looking at the caller I.D. It read Billy the Kid. "Yeah?" she answered.

"Mol-Molly, I can't find my keys," Billy slurred. Molly rubbed her eyes.

"Billy, where are you?" she frowned.

"I'm outside my apartment. You weren't at Old Point. I played a drinking game with Hale," he admitted. Molly pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Did you drive home?" she would really have to talk to the guys about driving while they were so heavily inebriated.

"No. I walked."

Molly repressed a growl of frustration. His apartment was several blocks from Old Point. He could have lost his keys any place along the route.

"Just stay there, Billy, I'll come and get you," Molly said abruptly. He hummed in assent.

* * *

Molly put her truck in park and got out. Billy was sitting on the front steps of his apartment. He staggered to his feet when he saw her.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said, throwing his arms around her shoulders. Molly nearly buckled under his weight.

"Come on, Kid," she ducked under his arms and started leading him towards the passenger side of her truck.

"No, really, Molly," he dug his heels into the ground. Molly turned and gave him a dirty look. It was well past midnight, and all she wanted was to be in bed. "I'm _really_ glad you're here," he said sincerely. The effect was ruined by his glazed eyes and alcohol drenched breath.

"Yeah, yeah, get in the damn truck."

* * *

"Are you mad at me?" Billy asked as she pulled his boots off. Molly said nothing as she tugged the afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over his prone body. "Molly?" he caught her wrist. She looked down at him.

"You're drunk, Billy," she said gently.

"I missed you," he reminded.

"I know, Kid. Just go to sleep. You're gonna be feeling it in the morning."

* * *

Molly was wrapped in her bathrobe, her wet hair hung down around her shoulders. She had just squeezed a glob of toothpaste onto her toothbrush when she heard an agonized groan.

Her damp feet left slight footprints on the wood floor as she walked down to hall to the front room. Billy was curled in on himself, cradling his head. Molly leaned against the wall.

"Mornin'," she said around her toothbrush. His blue eyes lifted to her and he groaned again.

"Please tell me I didn't drunk dial you," Billy moaned, rolling over and pressing his face into the couch cushion.

"Yep, at about one o'clock. You lost your keys," Molly informed him before going back to the bathroom to spit.

"I am so sorry," Billy said when she returned to the living room.

"Well, I'd rather you call me than sit out there all night," Molly told him simply, "I'm going to make breakfast, then I'll drive you wherever you need to go."

Billy's phone ringing cut him off from answering.

"Yeah?" He paused. "No, I drunk dialed Molly. She drove me to her place..." Billy's face turned into a mask of disbelief.

"Alright, thanks, Hale. I'll be by to pick them up, soon,"

* * *

Across town, Hale, Gunnar, and Tool were sniggering in the shop. Billy's keys lay untouched on the counter.

"Did he happen to mention how Molly reacted?" Tool asked, grinning broadly.

"No, he just said he'd be over to pick up the keys soon...That was a pretty genius idea you had, by the way," Hale said to Tool.

"Well, the only way those two idiots are going to acknowledge each other is if-"

Barney strode into the shop and glanced at them.

"Do I wanna know?" he asked warily.

"No," Gunnar decided.

"You just keep doing your leader-ly things, Barney, we've got it all handled," Tool assured his oldest friend. Barney narrowed his eyes at them all.

"I don't want to know," he said firmly, mostly to himself, before going into the back.

* * *

"Hey, gorgeous, we missed you at Old Point last night," Gunnar said, squeezing Molly into his side.

"Oh yeah? You weren't the only one," her eyes flickered over a blushing Billy. "What's this I heard about a drinking game?" she directed to Hale.

"Hey, there's rules! What happens at the bar, _stays_ at the bar," Hale said stubbornly. Molly rolled her eyes heavenward.

"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a wad, Hale!" she held up her hands in defense. "Kid, come on, I'll drive you to Old Point to pick up your bike."

* * *

"Let me take you to lunch," Billy said. Molly cocked an eyebrow at him. "Not as a date, more to pay you back for taking care of my drunk ass," he hurried to add.

"Alright..." Molly narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

* * *

Molly watched Billy glance around the restaurant nervously. It was one of Molly's favorite places to eat; A little Mom and Pop's diner with the _best_ milkshakes.

"Got something on your mind, Kid?" Molly drawled, picking at the paper napkin that had held her cutlery. Billy's blue eyes shot to hers. They were bloodshot, a telltale sign of the hangover he had to be suffering from.

"I'm thinking about quitting," he said quickly. Molly tilted her head to one side, her brows furrowing together.

"Quitting alcohol..? I highly agree, in fact, I think the entire team needs to go on a cleanse for a while, let their livers recuperate," she said carelessly. Billy shook his head in annoyance.

"The team," he clarified. Molly sunk back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Ok, I'll bite. What brought this on?"

"I was going to quit after the Albania job, it just kinda got drug out a little longer," Billy confessed. Molly felt her stomach turn.

"That's not what I asked, Kid."

"Why did you get into the business, Molly?" Billy leaned forward, his eyes earnest.

"Because I had just lost my unit and I wasn't ready to go home and sit tight like a good, little girl," Molly said abruptly.

"I joined the Expendables because of Sophia. I wanted to make a better life for her after I was discharged," Billy said, "I used to kill for my country, Molly, and then I was killing for Sophia, and I was ok with that, but now I'm just killing for myself, and I don't think I can stomach it anymore."

Molly swallowed hard.

"You tell Barney yet?" she asked grimly.

"No. I wanted to talk to you about it first...See what you thought," he hedged anxiously. Molly ran a hand through her hair, trying to process this new development. "So...What _do_ you think?"

She met his eyes, not looking away.

"I think if it was somebody like Gunnar or Barney, they wouldn't stand a chance in hell at civilian life. Some of us are too used to being a soldier. But you've got a chance, Billy. I think if you stay any longer, this life will get to you," Molly said slowly. He smiled kindly at her.

"What about you?"

Molly scoffed as the waitress brought out their burgers.

"What about me?" She asked, taking a French fry and poking it into a pile of ketchup. The waitress ambled away.

"You ever think about quitting?"

"No," Molly said honestly. Billy's brows knitted together. "The action keeps me on my toes, Billy. Keeps me from thinkin' back too much on the past," she said decisively.

"Don't you ever want to be a mom, settle down?"

_With you_? Molly repressed the hopeful thought that sprang up in the back of her mind.

"My Ma dropped me off on my grandparents' doorstep when I was three years old, Billy. I don't know shit about raising a kid," she said, sounding harsher than she intended. Billy flinched a bit and she made sure to soften her tone. "I don't want to have a baby and f*ck it up, Kid. I don't want them to end up with all the emotional baggage that I have."

"I think you would be a good mom, Molls," Billy told her, tentatively reaching for her hand that sat in a fist on the table.

Molly quickly jerked back, her cheeks going colorless.

"Back off, Kid," she warned severely, her eyes flashing dangerously. Billy immediately backtracked, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, Molly," he apologized. Molly glowered and picked up another fry too viciously, causing it to break. Annoyed, she started to eat her burger.

* * *

They didn't speak until Molly dropped him off with his motorcycle at Old Point. He leaned in her open window.

"I'm sorry for freaking you out, Molls. Thank you for letting me talk to you about this," his eyes gleamed with sincerity.

"If you're thinking about quitting, Billy, you need to tell Barney soon," was all she said before driving away.


	33. Fear and Loathing

_"I've lived a lot of different lives_  
_Been different people many times_  
_I live my life in bitterness_  
_And fill my heart with emptiness_  
_And now I see, I see it for the first time,_  
_There is no crime in being kind_  
_Not everyone is out to screw you over._  
_Maybe, oh just maybe they just wanna get to know ya."_

_-Marina and the Diamonds, Fear and Loathing._

* * *

The sun was painting the sky all manner of reds and golds when Billy pulled up to the hangar. Barney was wiping his hands off with an oil rag.

"Hey, Kid," he greeted the younger man.

"Barney," Billy nodded once, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. Truthfully, he wasn't sure why he was so nervous. Barney had been completely fine with the idea of him leaving a few weeks ago.

_But now Molly's home and the team's together again. Will that change his feelings?_

"Want a beer?" Barney asked.

"Nah, thanks. I, uh, actually came to talk to you about something," Billy admitted.

"Sounds serious," Barney drawled. He gestured to one of the fold out lawn chairs in one corner of the hangar.

"I don't think this is the life for me, Barney," Billy said simply. Barney dropped his head and smiled sadly at the ground.

"I wondered when we'd be having this conversation again. I don't blame you, Kid," Barney said plainly.

"I'm tired of the death, Barney, and I'm not doing it for anybody anymore," Billy admitted. Barney's eyes flickered for a moment, as if he had something to say, but then thought better of it.

"You don't gotta explain yourself to me, Billy. Where you gonna go?"

"I don't know yet. I think I'll stick around for a while, see about finding a job...I do _like_ New Orleans..."

* * *

Meanwhile, Molly was sitting in a back booth at Old Point, her back to the very corner. She never liked sitting at the table her team always gravitated to. It was right out in the open.

A half finished beer and an open book were on the table in front of her. James had come by several times to make sure she didn't need anything.

Molly rarely visited Old Point, but James knew she ran with Barney and Tool, that earned her some respect and status. And, after she had thoroughly whipped that mittsy drunk's ass, people steered clear of her.

"Hey, Molly, you doin' alright?"

She lifted her eyes to James, trying to mask her annoyance. James Devereaux was about thirty, give or take a few years. He was a frequent client of Tool, with tattoos creeping up and down his arms. His dark hair was closely cropped and his green eyes were all too knowing. Aside from the slight limp in his left leg and a mild Cajun accent, there wasn't anything else noteworthy about him.

"I'm good, James. Thanks," she said plainly.

"Where're your boys? Or are you flying solo tonight?" he slid into the seat across from her. Molly took a sip of her beer. It had gone flat and was about room temperature.

"Just didn't feel like sitting at home with the dog," she drawled.

"You don't really have a life, do you?" there was no malice in James' voice, only sympathy. Molly closed her book and leaned back in her seat. "Sorry, that was rude," he rubbed the back of his neck, "Look, I get off in twenty minutes and there's a lot of bands out in the Quarter tonight. Would you like to get dinner with me?"

He didn't miss the flash in Molly's eyes.

"You seem like a nice guy, James, but I'm not really the relationship type-"

"You can save your pretty little lies, cher, which you need to work on, by the way," his eyes glittered. Molly's hand sunk under the table, easily finding her holstered gun. "I know what kind of job you've got," he informed her.

"How?" she ground out, adrenaline shooting through her veins.

"Well, it takes one to know one," he said lightly.

"You were a merc," she stated, her grip lessening a bit on her gun.

"Yep. And you're the Lone Wolf's little girl, running with one of the most infamous teams in the world," he leaned forward on the table, smirking. "So, now we know each other's dirty secrets, how about dinner?"

"I'm not sure if I should shoot you or not," she said warily. He flashed pearly white teeth at her in a wicked smile.

"That's alright, you can make up your mind on the way. Fifteen minutes!" he said before getting up.

Molly flipped out her phone and began composing a text to Tool.

_What do you know about James Devereaux from Old Point?_

_**He used to be in the business. Why, somebody have a crush...? **_Tool's response time was instant.

_Yeah, I'm asking for Gunnar,_ she sent back, smirking.

_**Nice try, gorgeous. Gunnar's here, getting inked up. **_Tool sent back. Distantly, Molly made a mental note never to get a tattoo from Tool unless she confiscated his phone first.

_He asked me out for dinner. I just didn't know if I should trust him_, she admitted.

_**He's a good guy. Have fun and make sure you use protection. **_Tool's text made heat rise on her cheeks.

_ I don't even know how to respond to that, _she stated.

_**Good night, Molly ;) **_He texted back.

_You'd better not have told the guys, Tool,_ she put her phone back into her pocket as James slid into the booth, his leather jacket over his arm.

"Doing a check up on me, beautiful?" he teased.

"I'd be an idiot not to," she stated petulantly. James flashed her another grin before rising and offering her his arm.

"Shall we?"

* * *

Molly kept her guard up as James took her to a little cafe in the French Quarter. They were seated outside at a cast iron, bistro table. She wanted to watch all the people go by, and she probably would have, if she'd been alone, but as it was, she had a very interested male seated across the table from her.

"I know this is probably a stupid question, but do you ever relax?" James asked, peering over his menu at her.

"No," she said pertly. He grinned broadly at her, amusement shining in his eyes.

"We'll have to work on that, then," he said simply.

"And just _how_ do you propose to do that?" Molly narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Careful, darlin', you're Stateside, you can't shoot me out in the open like this," he teased. Molly huffed, sinking back in her chair. James' smile turned kind.

"Come on, I'm not that bad, am I?"

Molly felt a pinprick of guilt. She _was_ being rather unfair to him. James had never been anything but polite to her.

"I'm sorry. I don't really have a stellar record with guys," she apologized.

"It was all their fault, I'm sure," his eyes twinkled with mirth as red rose on Molly's cheeks and she looked down at her hands.

* * *

They ate their supper quickly, James did most of the talking, for which Molly was grateful. She wasn't sure she would be able to carry on her end of the conversation without making a fool of herself.

James told her about his old team as they ambled down the sidewalk, taking in the sights and the mixture of bands on the different corners.

"You're awful young to be retired," Molly commented. Pain flashed across his face for an instant.

"Yeah, well, shrapnel f*cked up one of the nerves in my leg. I can't run through the jungle too good with this limp," he shook out his leg, aggravated.

"Oh, Golly, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even said anything," Molly immediately felt like an ass. James turned and shook his head.

"Take it easy, cher, ya didn't mean anything by it. Now, come on, I may not run, but I can dance!"

Before she could even form a coherent protest, he had pulled her into the crowd of dancers. Molly's hands gripped his shoulder like a lifeline.

"Hey, just loosen up, I'll watch your back," James said, looking down at her. His wide hands were splayed out on the middle of her back.

It took several songs, but soon she was letting him lead her through the steps, apologizing when she stepped on his toes.

James would just laugh.

* * *

"So, have you made up your mind on whether or not to shoot me?" he asked as he walked her over to her truck.

"Not tonight. I'm too tired to bury your body," she admitted. James grinned.

"Well, then I am going to politely ask you for your number and pray you don't bust my nose," he said. Molly rolled her eyes heavenwards.

"You're a flirt," she accused, taking his phone from his hands and quickly adding herself as a contact.

"And I don't suppose you'd let me give you a goodnight kiss?"

Molly was grateful that it was too dark for him to see the beet red of her cheeks.

"Don't push your luck, hon," she warned. James grinned, unashamed, as he opened her truck door for her.

"I'll talk to you later," he promised.

* * *

It was only later, after Molly had showered and gotten into her pajamas that she put her phone on the charger and saw she had a text from Tool, from several hours ago.

Confused, she opened it.

_**Too late. **_

Molly closed her eyes and groaned. Tool had spilled the beans about her kinda-date to the guys.

She would never live it down.


	34. Can't Go Back

**A/N: Shout out to Adain Bryce and Guest for reviewing! You guys are just swell. **

* * *

Molly did her damnedest to act nonchalant when she entered Tool's the next morning. She didn't miss Gunnar hovering uncomfortably close behind her.

"Got a problem, Jensen?" she asked acidly.

"Just looking for hickeys. Doesn't look like you got lucky last night," he announced. His words had an instant effect. Molly went scarlet from her hair line to her chest.

"Shut up, Gunnar," Barney scolded from by Tool's computer. Molly dropped into a seat next to a surly Christmas.

"You mind telling us what the big meeting's about so I can get back to Lacey?" the Brit asked impatiently.

"Yeah, I'll be quick, don't get your panties in a wad," Barney scoffed, "Billy's quitting. We're down a sniper. Now, we can start looking for another one, or leave the team as it is."

The vote was unanimous and speedy. Nobody wanted to find new blood.

"That's it? After over a year, he's just leaving?" Hale demanded.

"You really blame him, Hale? Billy's young. He was doing this for Sophia, but she's out of the picture. _I_ would quit, too," Molly said simply, defending the sniper.

"He's older than you," Toll pointed out gruffly.

"What I lack in years, I make up for with my stunning beauty and wit," Molly shot back.

"How stunning did James Devereaux find that last night?" Hale asked coyly. Molly's blush, that had faded a bit, came back in full force.

"I will end you," she warned severely, her blush still bright as she left the shop.

* * *

"Well, I must have made a better impression than I thought if you're following me!" came when she was examining fruit at the farmer's market.

Molly's head snapped up. James stood a few feet away, trademark smirk on his face.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said glibly, putting the peach back in the crate and walking away. James caught up to her.

"I wouldn't _dream_ of it, Molly," he caught up to her quickly.

"You're persistent," she noted idly.

"And you're intriguing," he retorted, "So, let me buy you an ice cream cone," he gave her a charming smile.

"Don't push your luck, James, I've gotta get my groceries and do chores at home," she said sternly.

"What, like laundry?" he queried.

"No, like putting up defenses against the possibility of an alien invasion," Molly snapped sarcastically. James gave her a megawatt grin.

"I like you, Molly Booker," he said before ambling off. Molly shook her head exasperatedly.

_Mercenaries, they're a few rounds short of a few clip_, a voice in her head said wisely.

"That's like the pot calling the kettle black," she grumbled to herself.

* * *

Molly sighed when she heard Billy's bike pull up in the driveway. Chinook let out a whuff as she stepped out onto the porch to meet him.

"So, I quit," Billy said, not coming up the porch steps, but staying on her walk way. Molly folded her arms across her chest and leaned against one of the support beams.

"I know. We had a meeting this morning. Decided not to replace you," she said evenly. Billy didn't even bat an eye.

"I would like to have dinner with you," he said firmly. A muscle jumped in her jaw. "Come on, Molls! We're not teammates anymore-"

Molly raised her eyes to the heavens before closing them and taking a deep breath through flared nostrils.

"For the love of _all_ that is holy, _please_ tell me you didn't quit the team so I would go out with you-"

"No, Molly, but I don't get why you won't at least give me a chance!" Billy protested. He didn't fail to notice her hands fisting at her sides. She looked like she was getting ready for a fight.

"You need to leave," she said firmly.

"Molly, come on-" he stepped up onto the porch, reaching for her. She took a hasty step away from him.

"Just, don't, Billy, please. We've got a good thing going, ok? You're my best friend," she pleaded.

"You loved me, though, that's why you left when I went to France," Billy accused.

"That was part of it, Billy, but you were there for me, and you were sweet and kind, and it was hard not to fall for you, but I'm never going to leave the business. I'm never going to settle down and have kids, and I _know_ you want that," Molly's back was against her front door.

"Molly-"

"Please, just go, Billy."

He gave her one last, sad look before turning and walking back to his motorcycles. Molly forced herself to watch him pull out of the driveway.

* * *

She sat on the floor with Chinook, hugging the monstrous Rottweiler to her body with hot tears streaming down her face. The dog took it very well, leaning heavily against his mistress, offering her whatever comfort he could.

Her doorbell rang and she straightened a bit. It could be Barney or Tool-

_But do you really want them to see you all weepy over a boy?_ A voice warned. Molly stood and drug her knuckles over her face, scrubbing the tears away as her visitor continued knocking.

Her phone buzzed.

"I know you're in there, cher, your truck's here," James said when she answered.

"I'm not really in the mood to be pestered," Molly leaned her forehead against the door, closing her eyes.

"Come on, I've got ice cream, and I don't want it to melt," he complained. Molly unlocked the door and hung up.

James stood on her porch, balancing a few cartons of ice cream and a box of cones in his arms. He nearly dropped them when he saw her tear stained and blotchy face.

"What's the matter, Molly?" he asked, stepping into the house. Molly took a few rapid steps back to avoid him. His green eyes widened a bit. "Hey, take it easy, cher," his voice dropped a few notches. Molly took the ice cream from him and went to put it in the freezer.

"How did you know where I live?" she asked, sniffing.

"I called Tool. He seems to think you need to loosen up a bit. I'm inclined to agree," James' voice was soft as he leaned against her counter, his ropey, tattooed arms folded over his massive chest.

"Look, I can't deal with your charms right now, ok? I just-" she sucked in a harsh, shaky breath as her voice cracked.

James stepped forward, opening his arms as if to hug her. She took a step back, hitting her fridge. He dropped his arms, his face softening.

"Alright, you wanna talk about it or eat ice cream?" he asked simply.

* * *

They stood in silence, eating the ice cream. Molly made sure to keep the breakfast bar between them. She didn't want him to try comforting her again.

"Why did you come over?" she asked stiffly, putting her dishes in the sink. With the caution of one approaching a wild animal, James eased over to her, leaving a fair distance between them.

"I wanted to buy you an ice cream cone earlier," he shrugged. Molly's brows knit together as she surveyed him.

"Are you for real?"

James patted himself down before nodding.

"Yes, I believe I am."

"Look, I just, I _can't_ date, ok? Because I'm not going to quit this gig until I'm dead. And that comes sooner, rather than later to most people. And I won't break any hearts, ok? I can't leave anybody behind to miss me!" Molly took an abrupt step away from him.

"That's no way to live, Molly," James shook his head, "You can't be scared-"

"Do _not_ tell me what I can or can't do. Last night was the first time we spoke more than a sentence to each other. You have _no_ right to tell me how to live my life! I will _not _let anybody through what they did!"

"Who, Molly?" James asked gently. She shook her head firmly, swiping the palm of her heel at the corner of one of her eyes.

"Get out. Get out of my house," her voice shook. James held up his hands and made a hasty retreat.

* * *

When Barney pulled up to the hangar the next morning at dawn, he found Molly beating the hell out of the punching bag in the corner. Her hands were unwrapped and very bloody.

"Whoa, hey!" Barney caught her elbow. Molly jerked away, her tired eyes snapping up to his. Barney took one step back. He could recognize that vacant stare. Almost all of the team had sported it at one point or another in their mercenary careers.

"You alright?" Barney asked gruffly. Molly looked down and flexed her hands experimentally, cracking the dried blood.

"I, uh, picked a fight with that oak tree in my yard. After we called it a draw, I came here," she admitted carefully.

"I hope you taught that tree a lesson," Barney said dryly. She gave a half shrug and a kind of smile. Barney reached for the hand wrap and began to wrap up his own veined hands.

"Want a sparring partner?"

She smiled tiredly.

"Sure, boss."

* * *

_'Some things you can't go back to_  
_Some things need left alone_  
_Don't mess with the memories of a life passed on_  
_All the time I made reservations, at the heart of my mistakes_  
_Oh, some things you can't go back to '_

-Little Big Town, Can't Go Back


	35. Once You've Learned to be Lonely

_The young pregnant girl fell into Molly's arms, tears streaming down her face. This one was Frank's girl, Lottie. _

_ This had been a bad idea. Molly knew that by the time she got Stateside, all the loved ones would have gotten the letters about her unit. But she had a pact to uphold. They'd all agreed, months and months ago, that if one of them had died, the rest of the unit would tell their loved ones what had happened. _

_ But Molly was the only one left-_

"Hey, you listening to a word I'm saying, Booker?" Barney asked gruffly. Molly pressed the alcohol soaked cotton ball harder onto her busted knuckles.

"Hmm?"

"You all right, Molly?" Barney dropped into the seat across from her, concern evident on his face. She let out a bark of mirthless laughter.

"I'm fine, Barney," she said, smiling sourly, keeping her eyes on her battered hands.

_You really were out of control if you slugged a tree, Molls, you need to keep a lid on it,_ she told herself.

"What's on your mind?" he asked simply. Molly ran a hand through her hair, suddenly feeling very tired.

"I think I f*cked up, Ross," she admitted. Barney tilted his head. "I keep pushing everybody away, because I've seen the war widows. I don't want to hurt anybody when I finally kick it."

"That's the dumbest thing I ever heard, Booker. You can't _stop_ somebody else from caring about you," Barney said bluntly.

"But I can stay away-"

"And leave them regretting that they never got their chance?" Barney's brows shot up. Molly broke away from his unwavering gaze. "Take it from somebody who knows, Molly. Those guys on our team, they're damn special, they've made it longer than most in this business. You don't see them hiding away, do you? Your Dad's got a family, so does Trench. Caesar's got kids somewhere, Yang has a whole brood back in China. We _can_ find happiness," Barney surprised them both by reaching over and giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Why haven't you, then?" Molly asked soberly.

"You're young, Booker, you can get out of this business, you can start a family," he ignored her question.

"I don't want to quit, Barney, and I couldn't leave you boys without a medic," she shook her head firmly.

"One day, Booker, you've got to stop living your life for other people. Now, I think you should probably call Billy. He was pretty worried last night," Barney stood and ambled off.

* * *

Molly only had just sat down at the booth in the back when James caught sight of her from behind the bar. His face was carefully blank as he limped across the room and slid into the seat across from her.

"Ya here to yell some more, cher?" he asked blandly. Molly blushed and dropped her gaze.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have screamed at you. It was uncalled for. You were only trying to help," she said, still not looking at him.

"Not entirely uncalled for. I knew what I was getting into when I asked you to supper. We've all got baggage, Molly, it's a perk of the job," James shrugged.

"I acted like a bitch. And you were right. This isn't any way to live," she admitted. James tilted his head at her curiously. "So, if you would like, you can come and eat chicken pot pie with me tonight for supper," she got a little more pink, still avoiding his gaze.

"I'd like that, cher," he grinned, "I get off at seven. That alright?"

Molly nodded at her lap.

"I'll see you then," he patted her shoulder as he walked back to the bar.

* * *

"What do you want?" Billy asked irately when he answered his phone.

"Ok, I deserved that, I'm sorry," Molly stated, striding into her house and setting the grocery bags down on the counter. Chinook glanced up from his dog bed and gave a whuff. "I overreacted yesterday," she told him.

"That's the understatement of the year," Billy scoffed. Molly reigned in her temper.

"Billy, when you've been through the shit that I've seen, we'll talk, ok? But you're one of my closest friends, and I don't wanna lose that."

"Right, friends, got it."

"Billy, I don't want to fight," Molly pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly.

"Yeah, alright. I'll talk to you later, Molls," then he hung up. She knew she had a long road ahead before she and Billy were back to normal.

* * *

Molly was in a pair of clean jeans and a button up, sleeveless shirt when James knocked on her door. Chinook was on her heels as she went to let him in.

His hair was combed back a little roughly and he held a squashed bouquet of lilacs in one hand and a six pack in the other.

"I didn't take you for a wine type of girl," he admitted. Molly laughed.

"You'd be right. Come on, I just pulled it out of the oven," she led him down the hall to her kitchen.

"Nice place you've got here," James noted as she put the flowers in water.

"Thanks. Billy, one of my teammates, helped me fix it up," she said, serving the chicken pot pie.

"Aw, yeah, the sniper. He's a decent fella," James nodded agreeably. Molly gave a snort.

"Yeah. We're not exactly seeing eye to eye right now," she admitted.

"Too bad. Discord in the team is never a good thing," James said wisely.

"He quit. He's working at an animal shelter now...This wasn't the life he wanted," she shrugged, shaking salt on the inside of her pie.

"I don't blame him. Things have been quieter since I settled down, anyways," James admitted. "What about you?"

"Well, I figure the longer I do it, the longer I can put off the inevitable onset of PTSD," Molly said glibly. James grimaced. "Sorry, I don't really filter well," Molly blushed.

"At least you're honest...And a _very_ good cook," he complimented. "So, Afghanistan or Iraq*?"

"Iraq. Three years in the Airborne, then I was discharged. Been with the Expendables ever since," she leaned back in her chair.

"How long?"

"Almost four years, though I was in Albania for about nine months. How about you?"

"My Dad was an ex SEAL. Kind of grew up with the life. I washed out of boot camp... _Apparently_, I have issues with authority. Joined up with a team out of Boston when I was nineteen. Got hit with the shrapnel a few years ago and decided to quit while I was ahead," James said before taking another bite of pot pie. "Ok, my turn to ask, when's your birthday?"

"August fifteenth. Yours?"

"That's only in a few weeks!" James gaped.

"Don't get any wise ideas," Molly warned sulkily. James just grinned broadly.

"Aw, cher, I'd _never_."

* * *

After supper, James helped Molly wash and put away the dishes. They had ice cream for dessert.

Molly found herself laughing easier at James' jokes. _See, Molls, boys aren't as scary as you thought,_ she told herself.

"So, what was is like having the Lone Wolf as a dad? I suppose he scared off all your dates?" James chortled. Molly's smile faded.

"Yeah, not so much. I grew up with my grandparents. I only got to see dad on a handful of birthdays and an occasional Christmas."

James face palmed.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't know," and it truly didn't bother her any longer, "what about you? Any family?"

James ducked his head, his smile softening.

"A sister and mother in Shreveport. Mary-Louise takes care of Mom. She's got early onset Alzheimers."

"I'm sorry," Molly said sincerely.

"Ah, thanks, cher, but let's not talk about the depressing stuff, yeah?"

"Sure," Molly smiled kindly.

* * *

It was around eleven when he finally left. Molly escorted him to the door, but he hesitated. Molly felt ice rush down her spine. She had been afraid of this-

"I had a nice time, Molly, thank you for supper," he said quietly. Molly kept her eyes focused on his shoes.

"I did, too, we should do it again," she nodded. Then, in her peripheral vision, she saw him leaning in.

Molly leaned away quickly and James faltered. "I'm sorry-" she began to stammer.

"No, it's fine, cher, I should have asked. Ya have a good night now, Molls," he took her hand and squeezed it before leaving.

Molly closed her door and locked it. Chinook let out a low whine. She looked at him over her shoulder.

"Why did I do that, hon?"

* * *

*** Booyah to any fellow Sherlockians reading this!**

_"You're asking me to open up_  
_I'm tryin' my best to give enough_  
_To keep this love alive_  
_It wouldn't be so hard for me to do_  
_If it hadn't have been for all my heart's been through_  
_But once you've learned to be lonely_  
_And lonely is the only thing you've known_  
_It begins to feel like home_  
_It becomes your comfort zone_  
_Once you've learned to be without someone_  
_And settle for the silence of an empty room_  
_Oh, it changes you_  
_There's a lot you have to undo_  
_Once you've learned to be lonely."_

_Reba McEntire, Once You've Learned to be Lonely_


	36. Swing dancing and Casablanca

The next weeks passed in relative peace. Molly and James would meet up for a meal every few days and sometimes go to the farmer's market or downtown to listen to the bands play.

Molly found her heart lighter than it had been for many, many years. It got easier to be around James. She didn't mind it when he took her hand in his own as they strode through the farmer's market.

After that night at her house, though, he didn't try to kiss her again, and she was grateful for that.

* * *

Molly awoke the day of her twenty sixth birthday to her phone ringing. In the dark, she fumbled around until she found her phone.

"Yeah?" she answered blearily, still half asleep.

"Morning, cher!" James greeted, "get dressed and come outside, would you?"

"James..." she whined.

"Come on, slow poke!" before she could protest any more, he hung up. Molly got out of bed and let Chinook out. James swooped in and pecked her cheek.

"Happy birthday!" he enthused.

"It is five o'clock, James. Happy comes with the sun," Molly said glumly as she trotted to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"Well, come on! Pack some sweat pants, too!" he pressed.

With her toothbrush in her mouth, she pulled on jeans and a flannel over a t shirt. James was letting Chinook back inside while she tied her shoes.

* * *

James drove them into town, to Old Point. As she grumbled, he pulled her into the empty bar, through a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, into an office, and up a set of dark, narrow steps.

Cold air rushed past her when James wrenched open the door at the top.

Molly's eyes quickly adjusted from darkness to the lightening horizon. There was a TV tray set up between two lawn chairs. A thermos and lunchbox was on it.

"Shall we, cher?" James gestured grandly.

"You woke me up at the ass crack of dawn so we could eat breakfast on the roof of Old Point?" Molly asked grouchily. James threw his head back and laughed.

"Just wait, Molls," he soothed, pouring a mug of steaming liquid into a mug for her. Molly sipped it experimentally. It was hot, spiced cider, one of the only things she would drink warmed up.

"Come on, sit down, enjoy the show!" James encouraged.

So, in the semi darkness, Molly and James ate cold waffles, slathered with strawberry jam and drank the hot cider.

"I hope you know how early I had to get up to make this," James said cheerily as the first bit of gold appeared on the horizon.

"Pfft, you could have just woken up at a normal time," Molly scoffed, totally unsympathetic. James rolled his eyes.

"Then you would have missed the sunrise," he pointed out. Molly repressed a smile and settled back into her chair.

A few minutes passed, throwing a warm, pink light over New Orleans. Molly let out a slow breath at the beauty of it.

It took about twenty minutes before the sun was fully risen. The sky went through all shades of pink and gold and purple.

"Better than your sunsets, cher?" James turned to look at her. Molly sent him a sweet smile. "Happy birthday, Molly."

* * *

But that wasn't all he had planned. They ambled around the French Quarter, watching the city wake up. James drug her into a little antique bookshop and they easily burned three hours there.

"Come on, it's time," he said cheerfully.

"For what?" Molly asked suspiciously.

"For your birthday present!"

* * *

As it turned out, James listened a lot better than he ever let on. He was taking her to a dance studio, where they were to be instructed in swing dancing.

Molly had never sweat so much. Between James and the male instructor, she didn't get a break from the dancing.

But God, she was having a good time!

* * *

After the class was over, they went out for lunch. Molly's face was flushed, still, even as she slurped her milkshake.

"That was fun, James, thank you," she said sincerely. He just smiled warmly.

"We'll go back to my place, you can shower. Lacey dropped off your birthday present there. And I've rented _Casablanca. _We can watch it until our reservation tonight," James told her.

"You didn't need to go through all the trouble, James," Molly blushed.

"Oh, cher, trust me, it's no trouble at all," he said cheerfully.

* * *

James drove them to his flat. It was about ten blocks away from Old Point. The walls were white and it was very open space. There was no place for anybody to hide, and Molly liked that.

"I've been warned under pain of death not to open this, so I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing, but it's from Lacey. She _did_ have a lot to do with today," James said diplomatically, handing Molly a black box with a red ribbon. She felt a twinge of apprehension.

"Thanks for the heads up," she drawled.

"There's clean towels in the closet in there," James called. Molly sent him a grateful smile as she closed the bathroom door and locked it.

Yes, James seemed like a nice guy, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

After taking a quick shower and washing the sweat off of herself, she wrapped herself in a blue towel and opened up the box.

The first thing that greeted her was a lacy, teal bra and underwear set. Molly blushed red from her hairline to her chest as she pulled the note out.

Scrawled in Lacey's loopy cursive was a '_Have fun, Molly! ;)' _

Under the lingerie was a long, dark blue gypsy skirt with tiny glass beads sewn onto it. A black, off the shoulder peasant blouse with a plunging neck was the last thing in the box.

For a split second, Molly considered just putting her dirty clothes back on, but then James would know something was up.

Suppressing a groan, she pulled the clothes on, pulling the neck of the shirt up as far as she could.

Everything fit her surprisingly well. Molly would have to ask Lacey later how in the hell she knew her bra size.

* * *

James let out a low whistle when she ducked out of the bathroom, clutching the box that now held her dirty clothes.

"I'll have to thank Lacey later," he decided, making her blush. "I'm going to take a quick shower. Help yourself to anything in the fridge!"

They spent the afternoon watching Molly's favorite movie, _Casablana_. James tolerated it very well, holding his criticisms until the end.

"He doesn't get the girl at the end!" James complained, putting the DVD back in its case.

"Not every story is a love story," Molly said simply, "and not everybody gets their happily ever after. James smiled sadly at her.

"Yeah, I know it, cher."


	37. Chapter 37

"Sorry, cher, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to blindfold you for this part of our trip!" James seemed far too excited with this aspect. Molly sighed.

"Try anything and I'll break your finger," she threatened as he tossed her a black bandana. As he started his car, she rolled it up and tied it over her eyes.

"No peeking," James reminded.

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

After he turned off the engine, he came around and opened her door to help her out of the car. He took her hands in his own and began leading her. She felt the ground change and heard a door swing open.

"Watch it, there's a step," James cautioned. Molly obeyed. A few more steps and then he stopped. "Ok, there's a chair to your left," he let go of her hands. Molly felt around before the wooden back of her chair came into her grip. "Ready for your surprise?"

"After all this, I kind of feel like I should have brought a gun, just in case," Molly drawled. James sniggered and the blindfold was torn from her face.

Big, dark eyes were an inch away from hers. Molly let out a yelp and lurched back, bringing her hands up to collide against somebody's face.

"Ouch, damn it!" Hale swore as she fell out of the chair, hitting her wooden floor hard. Laughter and cheers erupted around her as Molly took in all the smiling faces in her dining room/kitchen area.

"I knew I should have brought my gun," Molly shook her head as Tool offered her a hand up.

"Aye, ye should have!" with that Dublin brogue, she froze. In retrospect, she wasn't sure how she could have missed her grandparents, with their soft eyes and white hair, amongst her teammates.

Molly launched herself at them, not caring that she was exposing a very sensitive side to her teammates.

"Ach, mo chuisle, you look so grown up!" Mary Fitzpatrick cupped her granddaughter's cheeks and tilted her face.

"Leave her be, Mary," Ben scoffed at his wife, "A girl's got ta grow up someday. Ye look lovely, Molly," he told her sincerely.

"What are you two even _doing_ here?"

"It's not everyday our girl turns twenty six, mo chuisle, and when Mr. Ross called us, well, we couldn't say no!" Mary said cheerfully. Molly gave Barney a look over her shoulder.

"Mr. Ross, huh?" her eyes twinkled.

"Some people have respect for me, Booker," Barney informed her. Molly threw her head back and laughed before giving him a tight hug.

"Well, thanks for that."

"Just repaying the favor. And I can't take all the credit. It was your boy and Tool who did all the planning," Barney jerked his head towards James who was conversing with Christmas and Hale. Molly blushed a pretty pink and looked down at her feet. "Don't listen to the team, Moll, James is a good kid," Barney clapped a hand to her shoulder. Molly smiled brightly.

"Thanks, boss."

Barney smiled at her before taking a swig of his beer.

Molly turned and began to visit with her grandparents. That is, until she saw Billy, who was half hidden in one corner of the kitchen, a half empty beer in his hand. Toll was standing next to him, speaking quietly.

"I'll be back," she told her grandma. Mary nodded, smiling broadly.

When Toll saw Molly approaching he ducked away hastily, offering Molly a wane smile and muttered, "Happy birthday."

"Hey," Molly took up Toll's old spot, leaning against the counter next to the ex sniper. Billy gave a forced smile.

"How's it going, birthday girl?" he asked gravely.

"Not so bad. We cool?"

Billy gave a sort of half shrug, still not meeting her eyes, keeping his blue eyed gaze trained firmly ahead of him.

"Yeah, we're cool... I've adopted a retriever. Her old owner was a history buff. He named her Roza Shanina," Billy smiled slightly.

"Russian sniper, nice," her eyes twinkled with mirth. Billy chuckled a bit at her. The tension left Molly's shoulders. Though they were a long way from where they had started out, things could only get better.

The doorbell rang and everybody got quiet. Molly didn't miss the conspiratorial look that passed between Tool and Barney.

"You should get that, Booker," Barney advised, barely repressing his grin. Molly sent him a suspicious look as she ambled down the hall to the front door. She unlocked and opened the door to see her step mother's smiling eyes.

"Lolly!" Adrian enthused, jumping up and down excitedly. Molly heaved him up into her arms, letting him rest on her hip. She hugged Dana lightly.

"What in the world are you _doing_ here?" she asked disbelievingly.

"I've missed enough birthdays," John told his daughter seriously, giving her a loose squeeze. His expression was distant, but Molly appreciated his effort at affection.

"Who is it, lass?" her grandpa called from the kitchen. Molly felt the blood drain from her face. _Oh, fu-_

"Well, if it isn't Johnny Booker," her grandma drawled coolly. Molly quickly set Adrian down.

"Please, Gran, don't start-" Molly sent a pleading look to her grandpa, desperate for his help. He didn't like John Booker, but he was at least level headed about it. Mary was likely to fly off the handle, and Molly didn't really feel like dealing with the fallout.

"Molly's right, Marie," Ben told his wife sternly, "Let's not fight. Who is this strapping young lad?" he looked down at Adrian.

"Adrian!" the little boy proclaimed.

"It's nice ta meet ya, Adrian. Is this your big sister?" Ben's eyes drifted over Molly. Adrian nodded happily.

Once Molly was sure her grandma wasn't going to lose her head, she stepped out from between them and went to the kitchen.

"Please tell me you have some sort of taser on you," Molly whispered darkly to her teammates, "I have a feeling we're going to need it before tonight's over."

"What's wrong?" Tool asked blankly.

"Putting my dad and grandparents in the same room is like playing with sparklers next to a barrel of gunpowder," Molly said grimly. Her eyes snapped up when she saw her dad begin to interrogate James.

"You're new," John Booker remarked.

"Ah, no, sir, I'm-"

_God, please, don't do this to me_, Molly shot up to heaven.

"- with Molly."

She had to resist the urge to face palm. John's eyes shot over to his daughter.

"Oh, _really_?"

"Ok, thank you for playing, Dad. James, would you please help me get some more beers out of the garage?" Molly swept between them.

* * *

"You must have a f*cking _death_ wish," she told him plainly retrieving a six pack from the fridge. James took it from her, a contemplative look on his face.

"Did you know he was coming?" he asked slowly.

"No, I would have headed him off if I had. He's never been good with my grandparents. It's going to be an awkward evening," Molly grimaced.

"Did I ever tell you that I met your dad when I was a kid? My dad ran with him for a while," James' voice had gotten low. Molly felt a prickle of unease go down her spine and she had the strongest urge to run back into the house, where all of her guns were.

"Oh yeah? I thought your dad was a SEAL," Molly said nervously.

"He was, then he got into the business. He and your dad got into a fight, about the time your mom got pregnant. You see, John Booker left a girl behind when he went after your mom. And that didn't sit well my my Dad."

Molly sprinted for the door, but James caught a fist full of her curly hair. Molly exhaled sharply, driving an elbow back into him. She heard the air gust out of his lungs, but he didn't loosen his hold. A cold barrel was pressed into the side of her neck.

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be, cher," she felt his hot breath on her ear, "just walk, nice and easy, into the house. Say a word, and I'll shoot you, then I'll shoot little Adrian."

"You leave him alone!" she spat. James gave her hair a hard jerk.

"Cooperate and I will. Now walk."

Trying to keep her heart rate steady under the thrum of adrenaline in her veins, she let James walk her out of the garage, across the breezeway, and into the kitchen.

"If anybody goes for their guns, her brains will be decorating the walls," James barked. Molly watched as a ripple went through her team.

If the situation had been any different, the way they all reached for their guns would have been almost comical.

"What the f*ck, Devereaux?" Tool demanded. All the blood drained from John's face.

"Devereaux. Charlie's boy."

"So glad to see you remember me, old man," James seethed, "you remember auntie Ariana as well?"

"Enough with the damn monologues. Let Adrian and Dana go. They don't need to see this shit," Molly spat. The sharp edge of the barrel dug harder into her neck.

"Don't f*cking order me around, _Marie_. John, send your boy over here-"

"Forget it!" Molly snarled, trying to jerk away from James. Anger was coursing hot through her veins. She had _trusted_ him, she had been _falling_ for him, and he was after her dad.

"Careful, Molly, this trigger is _very_ sensitive-"

"You shoot me, you've lost your leverage and they'll kill you," Molly hissed.

"That's why the kid needs to come over here. Johnny boy won't be too defiant when I've got both of his kids at gun point," James snarled.

"Look, I'll go with you, just leave 'em alone," John stepped forward, his hands up on his head. James let out a dark laugh.

"Sure. I'll just wander off alone with the Lone Wolf," James said sarcastically, "Ain't going to happen. Where do you keep your zip ties, cher?"

Molly ground her teeth. James pulled on her hair sharply, yanking her head back.

"Just tell him, Marie," John said soberly.

"They're in the drawer by the fridge," Molly said curtly.

"Mrs. Booker, if you would please? Tie up their hands, behind their backs, nice and tight," James ordered brusquely.

Dana looked around helplessly.

"Do it," Barney said grimly. John nodded his agreement. Molly watched as Dana moved about, zip tying her team and grandparents.

"Good, Molly, if you would be so kind to zip tie your step mother's hands?" James' grip on her hair loosened a bit, but he kept his gun on her.

Molly couldn't help the slight tremble to her hands as she tightened the black plastic around Dana's narrow wrists.

"Good. John, you can go out the door first. Just remember I can give your little girl lead poisoning," James threatened, "and if any of you try to follow us, Molly's dead."

Molly was pushed roughly forward, following her dad out the front door. She was at the top of the porch steps when she heard the gun and felt the hot spray of blood.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, guys. I saw the opportunity for a cliffhanger and I just had to take it. Please don't hate me!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	38. Tonight I Wanna Cry

James buckled against her, instantly becoming dead weight. John jerked his daughter forward and hugged her tightly.

"Are you hurt?" he asked in that calm way of his.

"I'm fine," Molly turned to see Danny nudging James' body with his foot, a gun in his hand. "What the f*ck are you _doing_ here?" Molly's voice was an octave higher than it should have been. Danny looked up, his face uncharacteristically serious.

"Barney invited me for your birthday. I was running late when I saw this asshole taking you from the garage into the house," Trench's demolition man said simply. Through the open door, Molly saw her team trying to squeeze through.

She could hear her grandparents screaming, wanting to know if she was alright.

"I don't feel so hot, Dad," Molly confessed, her knees trembling. Danny swept forward, catching her arms.

"I'll take care of her. You get this body out of here," Danny said firmly. John nodded and left her in the Scot's hands.

"Come on, Molly, let's go sit on those raised flower gardens of yours," Danny led her away, one arm around her waist keeping her from collapsing.

Molly watched with guarded eyes as Barney and Tool wrapped James' body in a blue tarp and flung him into the back of Tool's truck. Gunnar had drug out her garden hose and was spraying the blood off the walk.

"Ye hurt, lass?" Danny's soft voice broke through her thoughts. Molly just shook her head and swallowed the bile in her throat.

"I need to shower," she said hoarsely when she was sure she could keep everything in her stomach down. She could feel the blood drying hot and sticky on the back of her neck, matting in her hair.

"Yeah, alright. Come on," he helped her rise. Gunnar nodded at them as they walked up the wet steps.

* * *

Fortunately, Danny fielded any questions her grandparents tried to throw at her as she headed up the steps to her bathroom.

Molly stripped her blood soaked blouse and skirt off. _It's a shame really, that skirt was pretty_, she though sadly before wadding them up to put in the trash. The lingerie Lacey had given her followed her clothes.

Molly stepped under the hot spray of the water and watched it turn pink as it washed away the blood that remained on her skin.

* * *

A heated argument was raging when she plodded downstairs, dressed in her soft flannel pajama pants and a Loverboy t shirt.

"-got her killed!" her grandma raged.

"You think I don't know that?!" John snapped back.

"And you put your _new_ wife and son in danger, all of this is because you couldn't keep it in your pants!" Mary snarled. "If you had just left my Lillie alone-"

"Oh, because that's what this is all about! I was never good enough for Lillie, that is the root of _all_ evil!" John snarled. A warm, calloused hand found Molly's. She looked up into Billy's concerned blue eyes.

"You ok?" he asked quietly, so as not to interrupt the shouts. Molly just shook her head. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his side. "Can I do anything?" Billy murmured into her hair.

"Let's get out of here," Molly said quietly.

Billy didn't take his hand from her waist as they went down the hall. Molly grabbed her M-56 surplus jacket from the coat tree.

"I came on my motorcycle-" Billy started.

"It's fine," Molly shook her head. She just had to leave. She didn't want to go back inside and retrieve her keys from the kitchen counter. Then she would be pulled into the argument.

Billy gave her a weighted look as she brushed by him. She must have been shaken if she was disregarding any fear she had for his 'two wheeled death trap.'

"Are you sure, Molls-"

"Where are you going?" Tool came around the side of the house, shaking water off his hands. He had probably been putting the hose away and washing the blood off his hands.

"Escaping World War Three in there. Run while you can, Tool," Molly said grimly. Tool frowned.

"What should I tell them when they ask where you are?" the older man wondered.

"Tell them I needed to think," Molly took the helmet Billy offered her.

* * *

Molly had never ridden on a motorcycle before. Truthfully, it scared the bejesus out of her. It had taken her many years and scraped knees before she learned how to ride a bicycle. Adding several hundred pounds and an engine didn't improve her opinion of the things.

Billy went slow at first, down the back roads that surrounded her home. She was pressed right up against him, her arms tight around his middle, her face in his shoulder as the wind whipped at her pajama pants and zipped jacket.

"Loosen up a little, Molly!" Billy shouted over the running motor and wind. Molly felt the vibrations in the seat under her get stronger as Billy sped up.

Molly found herself lifting her face to the wind, feeling something oddly pure and free about zipping down the road in the dusky light of the barely visible sun.

It was about twenty minutes before Billy stopped at a crossroad and turned the engine off. He twisted his head to look at her.

"You wanna go back to your place?"

Molly hesitated a bit, flexing her cold fingers. "Hey, you know, I've got a couch at home, I mean, you'll probably be stiff as a board if you sleep on it, but it's quiet," Billy said slowly. Molly didn't waver under his gaze.

"Don't read too much into it, Kid," she warned him seriously. He grinned before turning the bike back on.

"Hold on," he called.

* * *

Billy's apartment was the same as it had been the last time Molly had been there, when she escorted his drunken ass home from Old Point so many months ago. That had been the night he had gotten into a drunken debate about Ernest Hemingway with Toll Road.

The walls were painted a light, tan color, almost the color of a band aid. He had a suede, chocolate colored couch against one wall, with an end table and lamp at one end, and a large, flat screen mounted on the other wall.

A dog with soft, tawny fur came down the hallway, tail wagging excitedly.

"Hey, Roza," Billy bent over the dog and ruffled her ears affectionately. "You want something to drink?" Billy asked, kicking off his boots and straightening. Molly shrugged out of her jacket.

"As long as it's got alcohol in it," she said darkly.

"All I've got is beer," Billy said simply.

"That'll do," she said.

"Go ahead and siddown," Billy invited as he ducked into the kitchen. Roza trotted after him. Molly crossed the living room and dropped onto the couch, sinking back into the cushions.

She closed her eyes and felt the blood spatter on the back of her neck. Billy came back in time to see her lurch forward, her eyes wide.

He silently handed her the beer and sat next to her.

"Happy f*cking birthday to me," she raised her bottle sarcastically.

"You wanna talk about it?" Billy wondered quietly. Molly turned herself around so she was facing him, leaning back against the arm of the couch and crossing her legs Indian style.

"I know it sounds stupid, but James was a good guy, I mean, I thought he cared- oh, my God, I sound like a f*cking chick flick," Molly leaned her head back, closing her eyes. Billy carefully squeezed her hand. She didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out, Molly," Billy told her honestly. He could have imagined it, but he swore she squeezed his hand back.

* * *

They watched some stupid, mind numbing television for a while before Billy brought out a few blankets and a pillow and helped her make up a bed on the couch. He didn't comment on her trembling hands.

Molly felt like a child when she crawled under the covers and Billy pulled the blankets up and over her. He brushed her hair back carefully, his eyes unreadable.

"Goodnight," he said softly. She blinked owlishly and brushed her hand over his scruffy face.

"Goodnight," she said back. He straightened and turned off the light before plodding down the hall to his bedroom.

Later on that night, after a few hours of laying silently in the dark, Billy heard her quiet sobs.

He didn't go out to her. That would have only made it worse. All she needed to do was get it out. He wasn't going to hurt her pride while she did it.


	39. Good Old Fashioned Fisticuffs

**A/N: Seriously, guys, you are amazing! I reached 5,000 views yesterday! Dudes! I feel like dancing a jig or belting out the entire soundtrack of a Disney movie or something! Virtual hugs all around! Thank you guys so much for reading this :)**

**And a special shout out to Mopargirl1 for helping me untangle my web of thoughts ;)**

* * *

The next morning, Billy drove her back home.

"If it's alright with you, Molls, I think I'm going to go home. I don't want to get between whatever's going on with your dad and grandparents," Billy said awkwardly. Molly smiled humorlessly.

"That's alright, Kid, I don't blame you," she handed him back the helmet. Billy tucked it into the seat compartment. "Thanks, Billy, for what you did."

He looked up with those beautiful, kind blue eyes and gave her a small smile. He reached forward and squeezed her wrist lightly.

"If you need to get out, I'm just a phone call away," he promised before tearing out of her driveway.

* * *

John Booker was already awake and drinking coffee when she entered the house.

"Your grandparents got a hotel room. They didn't want to stay under the same roof as me after we finished arguing," John said glibly.

"I can't imagine why," Molly sneered, pouring out a glass of orange juice. John said nothing to his daughter. Molly downed her orange juice in two large gulps. "I'm going to go get cleaned up, then we're going to sit down, and you're going to tell me why James and his dad hate your guts. You're going to explain to me everything that happened with Ariana Donner and, subsequently, Mom. Ok?"

John knew it wasn't really up for debate, so he just nodded. It wasn't something he really wanted to go into, but he knew he owed her that much.

* * *

Half an hour later, Molly and John went out to her raised flower beds and sat on the edges of the cinder blocks.

"I met Ariana Donner about a year before I met your mom. She was a student at Oxford. We started fooling around. Nothing serious, of course. I had to cross the channel every few days to work in France. My team, Charlie and Dean, they didn't really approve. Business before pleasure, they warned. I didn't listen. About a week before we were scheduled to fly home to the states, I told Ariana I wouldn't be able to see her any more...She didn't take it well," John admitted, smiling sadly.

Molly said nothing. Her face was cool and impassive.

"She flew into a rage, and I left. That was the last time I ever saw her until a year ago... But, after I left, she started calling and pestering Charlie. I didn't know this, but she had been pregnant. She wanted me to come home and get married. Charlie never passed the message on and our team split up soon after that, but I guess he always took care of her. And she took care of James when he was little," John shrugged.

"Go on."

"She found out about you, and she wanted to use you to get to me. She wanted me to come back to England to have a family," John said.

"She sounds psychotic," Molly said bluntly. John nodded wearily, rubbing his brow.

"Ariana had...problems. She killed herself after I found her and told her it could never happen," Johns aid slowly.

"Why am I sensing there's a 'but'...?" Molly trailed off.

"She had a gun, Marie. And she was waving it around, raving mad about something. She had found out about your mom, I guess, after I left her. She sent some wannabe mercenaries after Lillie," John would not look up at his daughter.

Molly felt hot fury pooling in the pit of her stomach. Before she knew it, she was on her feet, hands clenched into fists.

"You mean to _f*cking_ tell me that my mom died because some delusional bitch got it in her head you belonged to her?!" Molly spat the words out like acid.

John looked up at her, his face distant.

"I never meant for her to be hurt. I never meant for you to live this life-"

"That's tough f*cking _shit!_ You should have f*cking _thought_ about that before you got her _f*cking knocked up!_" Molly was building up into a good rage. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins. Every terrible, horrible feeling and grudge she'd hoarded against her father for twenty six years was surfacing now.

And she was torn between throwing up or hitting her father.

"Watch it, Marie, you have a right to be angry, but-" John rose to his feet as well, irritation flashing across his face.

"_You got mom killed_!" Molly screamed at him. "And now what?! Whoever Ariana Donner left behind goes after Dana? Adrian!? When will you f*cking _learn_?! We don't get happy endings! That's what happens when you get into this life, John Booker! People hold grudges and they don't take them out on _you_! They go after the people you _love!_ You should have just left them alone! You should have left Dana like you left Mom and Ariana! Then they would be safe!"

"I've lived a hell of a lot longer than you, Marie Rose, I don't need you to tell me how to live this life!" John snapped.

"Obviously you don't if you keep making the same, stupid ass mistakes!" Molly snarled.

"It's not the same! I'm raising Adrian, I'm _staying_!"

"Why couldn't you have stayed with me?!" Molly snarled, "You could have kept Mom safe, and she wouldn't have been _killed_ because of your damn ex!"

"Because I never loved your mother!"

After the words left his lips, Molly's hand snapped up and slugged him right in the jaw. Before he even had time to think about his reaction, he grabbed her wrist and twisted. Molly turned her body so he didn't break her arm.

John Booker had his daughter on the ground with her arm twisted and pinned against her back in the blink of an eye.

"John!" Dana yelled from the front porch. He looked up and Molly took that opportunity to escape.

That started a bloody fistfight. Molly was emotionally involved, fueled only by her boiling resentment.

John, to his credit, just tried to block her hits, only making her angrier.

Dana darted back into the house, hellbent on finding a phone. There was no way in hell she would be able to separate them by herself.

* * *

By the time Barney, Gunnar, and Christmas showed up, Molly was sitting against the oak tree in her front yard, tilting her head back to stop the bleeding of her nose.

She looked like shit. Her knuckles were bleeding freely and her face was already swelling. Grass stained her clothes.

"Jesus, kid-" Barney started towards her. Molly waved a hand and spat out a mouthful of blood.

"You oughta see the other guy," she drawled, baring her teeth in a bloody smile.

"Where's your dad?" Barney asked gravely.

"Dana's fixing him up in the house. I did pretty good against the Lone Wolf," she said idly. Barney frowned deeply.

"Check her for a concussion. I'll be back," he ordered before stalking off into the house. Gunnar dropped to his knees in front of her, pinching her chin between his thick thumb and forefinger and tilting her face up.

"You get hit in the head?" he rumbled.

"He knocked me down a few times. I don't think I hit my head," Molly admitted.

"Alright, follow my finger," he ordered. Her dark eyes followed his index finger as he trailed it across her field of vision. "You're fine. You break your knuckles?" Under the blood, he could see the swelling and the red bruises.

"Naw. I just need some ice and I'll be fine," she shook her head slowly.

"Christmas, I've got a first aid kit under my seat," Gunnar told the Brit. Christmas gave Molly a wary look before trotting off to the bikes.

* * *

"I know you didn't really just beat the crap out of your only daughter," Barney told John Booker coolly. The sandy haired man may have been his old friend, but Molly was his team, and your team was blood.

"What did you _want_ me to do, Barney? Lie down and take it like a man?" John winced as Dana pressed an alcohol swab to a cut in his brow. "Molly's been resentful of me her entire life. This took care of some of that."

Barney had to repress the urge to roll his eyes. Was John Booker really that blind? Even Barney knew that girls held on to things tighter than guys did. Sure, a brawl might have gotten some of that rage out, but it had also built upon what was already there.

No. Getting into fisticuffs with her father had not helped Molly's opinion of him at all and John Booker was a fool to think it had.

"Booker, I love you, brother, but I can't have you in New Orleans if it's going to cause problems with my team. Molly's my medic, she's responsible for all of our lives. I've got to have her head in the game. She nearly got her brains blown out last night because of your old flame. And this isn't the only time your ties with Ariana Donner have put my team in danger."

John pursed his lips.

"He's right, John," Dana remarked, "I heard what you told Molly. If my son is in danger, I think I have a right to know," the Romanian woman said severely.

"He's _our _son and he's _not_ in danger," John spat. Dana cocked a brow. "Don't worry, Barney, we'll be out of your hair by tonight. Marie's made it _very_ clear she doesn't want me around."

Barney ground his teeth. John looked up at him again.

"There is something else you should know, though..."

* * *

"Well, Doctor Jensen, will I live?" Molly wondered as he carefully cleaned the blood from her hands.

"You'll pull through," he said dryly.

"Damn," Christmas sighed heavily from the other side of her. She shot him a wicked smirk, cracking the scab in her lip.

"Sorry, Lee," her smile told him how thoroughly unapologetic she was, though. Barney came out of the house, slamming her door with a little more force than necessary.

"Come on, Booker, I need a beer," he offered her a hand up.

* * *

"So, he told you I've got another half sibling running around somewhere?" Molly raised a brow before taking a swig of the Jack Daniels.

"Yeah, he says she's not a threat, but he's not exactly sure where Charles Devereaux is. I doubt he'll appreciate his son getting shot," Barney said grimly. Molly shook her head, trying to ignore the twisting in her stomach. "You ok?" Barney's eyes were all too knowing.

"Just grand," Molly leaned back in her seat.

"There she is! Been lookin' for ya every where, lass!" Danny exclaimed. Molly felt the blood drain from her face. Danny had killed a man last night, for her, how could he-

"I never got ta give ya your present!"

"Danny, you don't have to-" she weakly started to protest.

"Oh, please, lass," Danny pulled a rectangular box wrapped in newspaper. Molly took it carefully and unwrapped it. She took the lid off the box to reveal a black SOG Jungle Primitive knife. One side of the blade was smooth, but the other was deeply serrated.

There were a lot of uses for a 16 inch knife like this, and the guys had been teasing her about not having one for a long time.

"Thanks, Danny," she said sincerely, "for everything," _Like saving my ass from a psychotic date_.

The Scot caught on to her meaning and nodded, grinning back.

"No problem, lass. I've got ta get goin', though. Trench has got a new job for me, see ya 'round," he squeezed her shoulder before leaving.

She and Barney sat in a comfortable silence for a long time, just drinking. Finally, it was Barney who spoke.

"Look, Molls, I know you're tough as nails. But I also know how much you liked that guy. Maybe you should talk to somebody about it?"

Molly raised her slightly glazed eyes to him.

"What, like a head shrinker?"

"There's no shame in that, Booker," Barney said sternly, "You know Toll goes often enough."

"Yeah, but Toll is-" Molly stopped herself. Was Toll Road really a lesser man for going and trying to work through whatever issues he had? Lord knows he was probably the sanest out of all of them... "I'll think about it," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

Barney nodded once before lighting his cigar.


	40. Chapter 40

"I'm _fine,_ Grams, really," Molly assured Mary as her grandpa loaded their suitcases into his old Cadillac.

"I know you are, mo chuisle, but I worry about you," Mary said tearfully, cupping her cheek.

"I'll call when I can," Molly promised, knowing they would be leaving for a mission soon. Ben came up and gave his granddaughter a tight hug.

"You come and visit us soon, ya hear, lass?"

"Yes, grandpa," she pecked his cheek. He gave her scar and bruised face one last lingering look before they got into the car and drove off.

* * *

Molly was the last one to arrive at the hangar. The guys were already dressed in their fatigues with their supplies packed away.

"You're late," Yin Yang told her, taking her musette bag and tossing it into the plane. She gave him a skeptical look.

"I had to see my grandparents off," she told him stubbornly before ducking into the bathroom to trade her jeans and flannel for her camo and kevlar.

"We're supposed to be picking up something from a dealer on the outskirts of Cairo to deliver it here. Our client is some sort of ancient antiquities collector. He wants us to protect whatever this thing is. He seems to think a lot of people are going to want it. You all pack your civvies?" Barney spoke.

They all nodded.

"Good. This is stealth, we're gonna try not to leave a body count. Get in, get out. When we land, Christmas and I will do quick recon, then we'll make a plan, got it?"

Again, nods greeted him. Barney clapped his hands together, a pleased smile on his face. This was his team, his family. They were a well oiled machine and they would always have his back.

* * *

"Booker, you feel alright about meeting up with the guy on your own?" Barney asked grimly two days later.

Molly tilted her head.

"Sure, if that's what you need me to do," she shrugged complacently.

"Alright. It's a big Muslim neighborhood, so you're gonna have to play dress up and avoid attention," Barney threw a wad of clothes at her.

"Is that why you're sending me in?" Molly's dark eyes twinkled.

"Booker, _we_ are not going to go unnoticed. _You_, on the other hand, have this magical ability to some how keep your head down," Christmas said sarcastically. Molly chuckled as she pulled on the clothes over her fatigues.

Molly didn't like the ankle length, linen dress. She couldn't move her legs as freely.

"How the hell am I supposed to wear this thing?" she held up the long piece of cloth that she presumed belonged over her hair and face.

"It's a hijab, Booker," Barney said patiently, taking it from her.

"Barney, this is Cairo, don't most women dress in the Western style?" she asked grumpily, tugging at the dress.

"The neighborhood we're going to is full of traditional Muslims, Booker, and you stick out like a sore thumb," he tugged on her braid as he wrapped the cloth around her head and neck, "At least with this, all they'll be able to see are those brown eyes," he stepped back to look at her.

Dressed in the muted blue, she could have passed under vague scrutiny. As long as nobody gave her a second glance, she would be fine.

"You got your gun?" Barney asked.

"Yep," the corners of her eyes lifted in a smile that wasn't visible.

"Alright, let me tell you how to get there..."

* * *

Molly ducked her head as she brushed past another person. Yes, this was the place. She knocked lightly on the door and it swung open.

A middle aged man with a thick mustache beckoned her in.

"Have you seen the news today?" he said in rough English. Molly shrugged and recalled the pass phrase she was to use.

"Yes. I don't know when they'll learn," she said idly. The man grinned in relief.

"I am glad you are here. I have been worried about thieves. Many people are after this," he said, handing her a small, velvet bag. Molly took it and tucked it carefully under her dress, in one of her kevlar pockets. "Be careful," he warned, opening the door for her. Molly nodded once before ducking back out under the hot sun.

"I've got it, Barney," she muttered into her comm.

"Alright, I'll get the plane ready. Don't take any chances, Molly," Barney's voice echoed in her ear.

"You got it, boss," she agreed. Somebody slammed hard into her shoulder. Molly's eyes snapped up and she muttered an apology in Arabic to the tall man. He glared hard down at her.

"_Give me the jewel,_" he ordered harshly. Molly felt ice shoot down her side as her hand found the handle of her gun.

"_Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about_," she continued speaking in Arabic as she tried to side step him. He caught her arm. She shot him in the side and he crumpled to the ground. Molly hitched up her skirt and began to run.

"Barney, I'm blown," she said, ducking down an alley.

"Shit, alright, we're coming."

That was the last thing she heard before ice exploded in her left knee. Molly went down hard, not even bracing herself. Her pulse pounded in her ears as hands tore her dress away, revealing her fatigues and kevlar vest.

Molly's vision blurred as she stared up at the face of the man who gave her the velvet bag.

"_Sorry, soldier_," he sneered, tearing the bag away.

"Booker!" Barney's voice bounced around her head from the comm. Molly blinked rapidly, trying to focus through the tears in her eyes and the pain radiating up her body.

"I'm hit," she managed, breathing out a sharp breath as she curled inwards, trying to press a hand against her knee and feel the damage done.

"Jesus, stay awake, Booker, we're five minutes away..."

* * *

The next thing she remembered was rough hands tearing open the bullet hole in her pants. Barney was hovering over her, lifting her head.

"How bad is it?!" he bellowed. _He should calm down, he'll give himself a heart attack_, she thought absently.

"She needs a doctor, bad," that was Gunnar.

"I'm sorry, Barney," she said, trying to move her tongue that felt very heavy. Barney's eyes locked with her's and he smoothed her hair back from her face.

"It's alright, hey, it's ok, Molly, just stay with me, that's an order!"

She exhaled sharply.

"I'm fine, really," her vision swam again and she felt two arms lifted her. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the cry of pain that crept up her throat.

"Watch it!" Christmas swore. Gunnar carefully readjusted his arms and Hale kept her left leg steady.

"Bar-Barney, it was the shopkeeper. He took the jewel," Molly caught her leader's hand. Barney squeezed, his face a mask of worry.

"Don't worry about that, Molly, just don't die."

And that was the last thing she remembered.


	41. Nightmares and Bad Knees

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews!  
**

* * *

_Molly felt hot, sticky blood coating her hands. She looked down upon Billy's pale face. His lips were parted in a silent gasp. Panic rose in her as another pair of hands joined hers to staunch the blood pouring from Billy's chest cavity. _

_ Her eyes shot up to James. As he bent down over Billy, she saw that the back half of his head had been blown away. _

_ "Come on, focus, cher!" he barked. Molly fell back, her hands trembling as she looked at them. Billy's eyes, far more aware than they'd been a moment ago, found hers. _

_ "Don't let me die, Molly. I have to get home to Sophia," he said conversationally. A hard hand heaved her to her feet. _

_ "Help your friend, Marie. He loves his French girl the way I could never love your mother. They have a future," John Booker said. _

_ "Molly! Mo chuisle, come sit down!" her grandma called, sitting on a set of steps that didn't lead anywhere. _

_ John Booker let go of his daughter and she walked over to sit next to her grandma, feeling much smaller. She tried to wipe the blood from her hands, but it wouldn't come off. _

_ "Lass, yer Ma, well, she's gotten hurt. She was in a car accident. We're going to go see her in the hospital, alright?" _

_ "I have to help Billy, Grams-" she started to protest. _

_ "Mo chuisle, she doesn't have long." _

_ "Then let her die, she never cared! I have to help Billy-" Mary's hand on Molly's arm suddenly turned into ragged claws. Molly jerked away and fell to the ground, saturated with thick blood. Pain shot up her left knee-_

"Whoa! Hey! Easy, Molly!" Billy caught her shoulder before she could fall out of the bed. Molly recognized the rapid beeping of a heart rate monitor. She blinked owlishly at him. Her left leg ached dully.

"As much as I realize how cliché this question is. What the f*ck happened?" Molly's throat felt dry, like she'd eaten flour. Billy settled back into his seat and reached for a cup of water. He offered it to her.

"You were shot, Molls, by some Egyptian antiquities dealer. It's a game he's been running for a while. He offers to sell some priceless artifact, meets the buyer after he's paid up front, shoots them, then runs off with the artifact to do it all again," Billy told her seriously. Pain flared in her knee and she pulled the sheets back. Her leg was propped up on a pillow and bandaged with pristine white gauze.

"How many days have I lost?" Molly asked, covering back up.

"About a week and a half. They had to stabilize you in Cairo, then Barney made them fly you back to the States so they could do surgery."

Molly's eyes flashed.

"Surgery...I guess it wasn't just a graze then, huh?" her voice caught in her throat as she gripped the sheets tightly.

Billy half rose from the seat.

"I should get a doctor-"

"How bad is it, Kid?" she ground out. Billy gave her a sober look.

Molly sat in the hospital bed, barely registering the efforts of Billy and Tool trying to distract her.

* * *

"...Brought you a few books-"

_Physical therapy, none load bearing. _

"..I mean, if you want different ones, just tell me and I can get them-"

_Wheel chair for several months, then maybe crutches, if it's healing nicely._

"..Is there anything else I can bring?"

_I'm sorry to say, Miss Booker, but I think it's a very slim chance that you'll ever regain full function._

"Molly?" Her eyes snapped up as Billy put his hand on her wrist.

"Where are the guys?" she asked, flexing her hand. God, she wanted to hit something-

Billy and Tool shared a wary look.

"The guy that hired you wasn't happy. They went back to Cairo after you were transferred down here from New York. They caught the guy that shot you. Yang said they would be home as soon as they put him in a shallow grave. I could hear Gunnar cackling in the background, if that tells you anything," Tool offered.

Molly frowned deeply.

"They'll be home soon enough," Billy assured her.

* * *

Tool stepped out of Molly's long stay hospital room to make the call. He could hear Billy flipping through the channels, trying to find a halfway intelligent show on the television.

"Yeah?" Barney answered.

"Molly's awake," Tool told his old friend. Barney was silent for a long moment. "She's handling it pretty well. Was asking about you. I told her you'd be home soon."

"Yeah, we're gassing up right now," Barney agreed.

"Alright. Safe travels, brother."

Molly kept thinking of her doctor's words. The bullet, a .223 teflon coated round, had shattered her lateral condyle and patella. They had had to put in a full replacement.

She was lucky, they said, that it hadn't gotten infected, that it had hit the lateral condyle instead of the medial. Molly was lucky that it had been a .223 instead of the larger .308, lucky that it had gone through instead of losing speed and tumbling, lucky it hadn't been a hollow point, lucky, lucky, lucky.

Lucky was the _last_ thing that Molly Rose Booker was feeling at the moment.

* * *

Her sentiments didn't improve as the next two weeks wore on. Hospital food sucked, the physical therapist that came to her room every morning to lift and bend her gimp leg was a grouch, and the damn nurses with their damn Cajun accents and their hideously colored scrubs wanted to help her do _everything_.

Nurse Jane Fremont, a woman who wore _Cabbage Patch_ themed scrubs had just ducked from the room, dodging Molly's well aimed paperback of Les Miserables.

Billy poked his head in the open door and immediately took in her clenched fists and the pages that had tumbled from the large book.

"Should I come back later?" he wondered, scooping the loose pages and the book up and putting them on the table. Molly sulked, sinking lower into her wheelchair. She had set herself up by the window, overlooking the courtyard.

"I want to go home," she said, feeling wretched. Billy's mouth turned down in a sympathetic grimace.

"I know, Molls," he squeezed her hand gently.

"I can't see the sun rise or set, Billy, and they won't let me go outside to the gardens, not for another week, I miss Chinook, I miss my bed. It smells _awful _here and I can't even move my _f*cking_ leg!" she seethed, two spots of red appearing high on her cheekbones. Molly glared down at the offending appendage.

"I'll see about bringing Chinook to come visit you," Billy promised. Molly felt that heavy ball of lead in her stomach twist painfully. Billy had been the one to show up every day to sit and visit with her, without falter. And here she was, taking her frustrations out on him.

"Billy, I'm sorry, I shouldn't-" her voice caught in her throat and she angrily scrubbed the wetness from her eyes. Billy leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her brow, his scruff tickling her skin.

"I know, Molls. I'm going to go get supper. You like Panda Express, right?"

Molly nodded once as he rose. Billy cupped her chin with my calloused palm and made her look up at him.

"It's going to be alright, Molly. I'm going to make sure you get through this," he swore. As he left her room, she felt that knot in her stomach ease a bit.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, you only have to read this if you want to understand the ballistics and medical side of Molly's injury! **

**The ballistics- She was shot with a .223 teflon coated round, smaller than a .308 caliber. It was NOT a hollowpoint, because when hollow points pierce something, the back ends balloon out towards the tip, and it makes a **_**bloody**_** mess as it tumbles through. **

** Because she was shot close up, the bullet hadn't lost as much speed, so it didn't tumble. **

**The medical- Where your thigh bone connects with your knee, it has two condyles, basically lumps called condyles at the end. (Google image it, because it's hard for me to describe how it looks.) The medial condyle is on the inside, and it takes about 70% of your weight. The lateral is on the outside. **

** The bullet only hit her lateral condyle and the patella (kneecap), not any of the tendons or ligaments, which would have been harder (but not impossible!) to reconstruct.**

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	42. A Visit and Unpleasant Discovery

**A/N: For you, Lena! Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Molly's fingers delicately brushed the skin over her knee. She had seen and given so many stitches in her lifetime, but these just seemed somehow uglier.

The black fiber, harsh against the inflamed skin, straddling the dark red of the incision they'd made. On the underside of her knee, there were four more stitches, holding together where the bullet had pierced her skin before shattering her lateral condyle and patella.

It was grotesque.

When she dared dig her fingers too deeply into her skin, regardless of the pain, Molly imagined she could feel the cold metal of her new joint.

A knock on her door made her look up at the nurse in the hideously pink scrubs.

"Molly, somebody's here to see you, hone. You want me to tell him you don't feel well?" Nancy asked kindly. As much as Molly loathed Nancy's wardrobe colors, the Cajun woman was very sweet.

"He tell you his name?" Molly wondered idly as she picked at the fraying hem of her flannel shirt. If it were Tool or Billy, they wouldn't have even bothered going to the nurses' station.

Vaguely, Molly dared to hope it was one of her absent team members. Tool had told her they'd gotten back from Egypt a week ago, but no visits had come.

If Molly had been a more vindictive person, she would have turned her visitor away, but, as it was, she had six weeks left in her hospital stay and the monotony was _killing_ her.

"No, but his ear- it was all swelled up, like a wrestler's," Nancy said. Molly smiled wryly. It _would_ be Toll who would come to visit her first.

"Go ahead and send him in. Would you bring my chair over here?"

* * *

Molly had just lowered herself into the wheel chair when Toll poked his head in.

"Hey, Molly," he greeted.

"How goes it, Toll?" she smiled warmly at him. He held up a musette bag before setting it on the table in the corner of the room.

"I brought you some books from your shelves. Billy said you'd probably finished Les Miserables," Toll stated.

"Yep, depressing shit," Molly nodded gravely. _"I just grabbed the biggest books on your shelf," _Billy had told her after he delivered War and Peace and Les Miserables. She had laughed at him. "What'd you bring?" she wondered.

"Complete works of Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald," Toll said, stacking the books neatly on the table. "You got any requests? I got these from your bookshelf, but I'm going to the library tomorrow," he offered.

"I think these will keep me busy for a few days, but thanks," Molly said gratefully. Toll nodded, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding her gaze.

"You wanna take a walk with me, Toll? The gardens are real pretty," she offered. The nurses had finally given into her pleading and cajoling and gave her the run of the place. The quiet mercenary shrugged.

* * *

"So, you guys finish out the job?" Molly wondered. Toll nodded once, still not looking at her. Molly repressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"We got the guy that-...Well," Toll trailed off uncomfortably.

"Toll, I got shot and am now wheelchair bound. Quit dancin' around it," Molly ordered evenly. The faintest shade of pink graced his cheeks.

"Are you gonna get better?" Toll asked anxiously.

"Docs say it's gonna be a while and I probably won't ever regain full function. I've got another six weeks before they let me start load bearing physical therapy and go home," Molly said plainly, ignoring the knot in her stomach. Somehow, saying it out loud with such flippancy made it more real.

Toll stopped and looked down at her.

"They miss you. And they're worried. Even if they don't show it."

Molly pursed her lips and kept rolling herself forward.

"Yeah, I can tell by how many times they've come to visit me," she said pertly.

"Go easy, Molly. You don't know how hard it was to watch you bleed out on the way to the hospital. When we ran up, we all thought you'd been killed. Christ, it was like Albania all over again," Toll shook his head. Molly said nothing as they continued one.

"And I think that Barney feels guilty."

"What for? He's not the one who shot me," Molly pointed out as she reached for the door. She knew a millisecond before it happened that she had leaned too far forward.

Both of her knees hit the ground and she sucked in a hard breath. Molly rolled onto her side, her eyes watering.

"Oh, Christ, Molly, are you ok?" Toll had dropped down beside her and was gripping her arm tightly. Still biting down hard on her lip, she nodded once, her eyes screwed shut.

Carefully, he picked her up and put her back in the wheelchair. Her shoulders were rigid and she was biting her lip so hard, her was afraid she would draw blood.

"Come on, let's get you some painkillers and an ice pack," he began to push her inside.

"No. No more f*cking painkillers. I'm so sick of having Vicodin shoved down my throat," Molly ground out. Toll Road hesitated.

"Have you stopped taking them?" he asked warily. Molly glared down at her lap. Toll stepped in front of her and crouched down so he was on her level. "Molly, look at me. You had your knee blown out. You _need_ to take your meds."

"I can handle it, Toll," she said grimly.

"Why don't you like them?" when she didn't answer, he pressed further, "Molly?"

"I can't think straight with 'em, Toll. I'm not _safe_ here and I'm in a piss poor position to be protecting myself. I need to be able to think-"

Toll felt like somebody had dumped ice down his spine.

"Molly look at me, hon. This is the beginning of PTSD. I know because I _have_ it. You've got to get a grip and realize where you are. You're _safe_."

Molly eyes him suspiciously, then she got very pale.

"Come on. Let's get you back to your room," Toll said gravely.

* * *

"Hey, man, where you been?" Hale greeted. His voice was less boisterous than usual, a fact that Toll didn't fail to miss.

As if sensing the team's mood, Old Point seemed subdued. The music, usually something loud and from the 70s rock genre, was turned lower. If Toll strained his ears, he could recognize the old Johnny Cash ballad.

Gunnar was over in the corner with Christmas, both tossing darts at the cork board on the wall with intimidating precision.

"I went to visit Molly," Toll said simply. Gunnar's dart sunk into the wall beside the board and Barney's shoulders tensed.

"How is she?" Yang asked calmly. Toll sat down in an empty chair and ran a hand over his face, thinking over his visit with Molly.

When he had first arrived, it was like walking on eggshells. He was never sure how to act around her. She didn't pick on him like the guys. They lent and recommended books to one another. She had his back on jobs, but they never had a camaraderie.

They both liked to keep people at a safe distance. But now Molly was on the edge of a downward spiral and Toll wasn't about to let her tip over. She didn't deserve that.

"You need to go see her. All of you do," Toll looked around, meeting everybody's eyes until they looked away.

"Come on, Toll, Molly's not one for throwing a pity party," Christmas stated. Toll felt a surge of annoyance rise up in him.

"She got her _knee_ shot out, f*ck your stiff upper lip, Christmas! She's stopped taking her meds and they're going to send her to a head shrinker because, well, wouldn't ya know it, she's developing PTSD!" Toll snapped.

"All the more reason to let her deal with it. She needs help, she'll ask. Molly doesn't like people stepping into her personal space," Barney said sternly before taking a swig of his beer.

Toll ground his teeth together and started towards the door. Tool stepped in and gave him a concerned look.

"_You_ talk to them_._" Was all Toll Road offered before leaving.


	43. Drowning

"_So save me I'm drowning alive  
And keep me from dying inside  
I only want to find my way back home  
But I can't make it alone  
No I can't make it alone_

I've got to hold on, I've got to be strong  
Can't give up now, I've got to move on  
I've got nothing left, so show me the way  
I don't think I'm gonna last one more day"

-Love and Theft, Drowning

* * *

"How are you feeling today, Molly?"

The red headed woman pursed her lips, her hard eyes trained on her white knuckles. Molly was gripping the armrests of her wheelchair too tightly.

This shrink, Doctor Peterson, worked with Toll's therapist. The quiet mercenary had assured her that he was trustworthy and knew all about the life they led, but that still didn't settle Molly's nerves about being alone with him without her gun.

To his credit, Peterson seemed to realize her discomfort.

"Would this be easier for you if we went outside?" he asked gently.

"If you want," Molly said through tight lips. She rolled herself to the door without waiting for his answer.

* * *

Doctor Peterson settled on a bench in the garden as Molly took up a position by a rosebush. She began pulling the dead flowers off of the stems.

"Your doctors are concerned that this hospital stay has brought on post traumatic stress disorder. You were in the Airborne, weren't you?"

"Haven't you already read my file?" Molly asked tonelessly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his take in a steadying breath.

"Molly, there is nothing pertinent in your file that will help me diagnose you. You grew up with your grandparents, your mother died in a car accident, you went to college at sixteen and subsequently joined a special forces unit that was later killed, leaving you the only survivor. And now, you've spent the last three years with military contractors. Any and all of these could point to PTSD, but I just want to know how it's all affecting you," Doctor Peterson said firmly. Molly's eyes flashed dangerously at him.

"What would you like to know?" she drawled. Doctor Peterson looked down at his notepad before meeting her eyes.

"Does your job bother you?"

Molly frowned.

"Why would it?"

"Well, you were trained as a nurse, to help people, to heal. But, I'd wager you've killed more than you've saved."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, I'm just trying to gauge your outlook," Nonetheless, he made a note. Molly scowled deeply.

"How many lives have you saved?" Doctor Peterson wondered. Molly's irritation grew. _This_ was why she had never gone to get her head shrunk.

"I don't know."

"Did you lose count or-"

"I never counted in the first place; I'm not a narcissist," Molly cut him off pertly. He made another note.

"During your time in the Airborne, you helped save forty lives. You only lost three. And I would wager that those three were the most important."

Molly's face got very red.

"What the _hell_ are you playing at?!" she seethed. He had no right, no right at all, to bring up her unit-

"Do you blame yourself for their deaths, Molly?"

"_I_ didn't pull the trigger," she hissed. Another note.

"But you couldn't save them. The brass were worried that it would affect your work. The psychologist that you saw in London said you were a prime candidate for PTSD," Doctor Peterson informed her.

"I can compartmentalize," she said coldly.

"Yes. That's what you do, isn't it? You lock everything away and you work so you don't have to think about it. But now, you can't work, not with your leg. So everything's coming to the surface. Do you suffer from nightmares?"

Molly didn't like this. This man, this man who was dressed like a dandy in his gray suit and powder blue shirt, was exposing every nerve, every insecurity, every thing she had fought, tooth and nail to hide. He was part of it, he was going to kill her, Ariana Donner had gotten to him before she died, he was going to peel her apart, layer by layer, so she would be begging for death-

"Molly?" he reached for her arm. Molly jerked backwards so hard, her seat tipped dangerously back. His gray eyes widened and he took a step back.

Molly took that opportunity to jump from her seat and lunge past him. She couldn't escape in her wheelchair.

Her left leg burned with pain as she tried to put weight on it. Instead of trying to walk, she just drug it along as she lurched forward, trying to only use her right leg.

* * *

"Molly, what are you doing?!" Nurse Jane asked, alarmed, catching her arms as she buckled against the hospital door.

"It's him, Peterson, you've got to call Billy and tell him he can't be trusted, he's working for Donner-" Molly sucked in a harsh breath. Jane's eyes softened.

"_Cher_-"

Molly jerked away from the older woman. James had always called her that.

"Molly, honey, please, just calm down," Jane soothed in her gentle Cajun accent. Molly started to run again, using the wall as support. Her leg was shot with hot pain, but she had to ignore it. She had to leave-

"What are you doing, Booker?" a British voice demanded. Molly could have cried in relief to see Christmas and Lacey standing there.

"Christmas, it's the shrink, he's-" Molly grabbed his shirt sleeve as Jane and two burly security guards appeared, Doctor Peterson behind them.

"Molly, you're safe here," the head shrinker assured her.

"F*ck you!" Molly spat.

"Please calm down, honey, you shouldn't be out of your wheelchair. You're going to hurt yourself. Cal and Dobson are going to help you back to your room, ok?"

The second they reached for her, she lashed out, fighting tooth and nail. Their hands were hard and bruising as they fought to restrain her. Nurse Jane was shouting at them and then, Molly felt a prick of pain in her side.

Her vision blurred and everything seemed to get much heavier. She lost the ability to stand on her good leg.

"Easy, Booker," Christmas said, his arm keeping her from crumpling to the floor. Black engulfed her.

* * *

Once Molly had been taken back to her room and restrained, Lacey sat down at the bedside and just watched the younger woman helplessly.

"The sedative won't wear off for a few hours," the Cajun nurse informed Christmas. He nodded once at her, his lips pursed.

"I've got to make a call, darling," Christmas told his fiancee before leaving the room. He pulled his phone out and dialed Barney.

"Yeah?" the man answered.

"I've just witnessed what I assume was a psychotic break," Christmas said tersely. He could picture Barney's frown.

"What are you talking about? You said you were spending the day with Lacey-"

"And she wanted to come and visit our medic in the hospital. Whatever head shrinker that Toll suggested apparently scared the bejesus out of her, because she gave the security guards black eyes and busted lips before they sedated her."

Barney blew out a slow breath before cursing.

"She alright?"

"She was out of her wheelchair, trying to run. They don't think she did any damage. It's bad, Barney," Christmas told him soberly.

"You call the Kid yet?"

"No. I'm not sure how well he would handle it. I thought Tool would be a better option," Christmas said dryly.

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll get him and we'll be over there in half an hour," Barney promised.

* * *

_"Hey, Moll," Dive greeted. Blood was pulsing from his neck. It had already soaked the shoulder of his shirt and was smeared up to his cheek, but he was unfazed. _

_ "Dive, oh, Christ," Molly surged forward and pressed her hand to his neck, trying to stop the bleeding. _

_ A bullet whizzed by and Dive pulled her through a heavy wooden door. They were on base, in Gomez's tent. _

_ Davies was sprawled on one of the cots, bullet holes peppering his torso and his eye blown out. He was surveying his hand of cards. _

_ "Got any threes?" Gomez asked. Blood coated his leg. The bullet had nicked the artery in his thigh. _

_ "Oh, God," Molly surged forward to Gomez's footlocker, trying to find his kit. Her hands shook as she tore open the arterial clamp pack. _

_ "What's the matter?" Davies asked idly, the gaping hole where his eye would have been was staring right through her. She let out a panicked sob as she turned back to Dive. Her fingers plunged into his cold skin, trying to find the place where the artery was severed. _

This is a lost cause, Molly. He needs the blood to his brain. He's not going to survive this. You've got to clamp Gomez's artery. He's got the most chance_, the logical part of her brain warned her. _

_ "I'm sorry, Dive," she apologized before tripping over her own feet to get to where Gomez was on the floor. She pulled at the hole in his pants, tearing it open so she could see the wound. Cold, black blood was gushing out. _

_ She put her fingers into it, feeling around, and then the scene changed. It was a sink, in an old, decrepit kitchen, the one at home. _

_ Brown water was spraying from the drain and she was trying to stop it. A hand on the back of her neck slammed her forehead into the edge of the sink. Dazed, she fell back. _

_ It was Emerson, the one who had cut her face. There was a gaping wound in his neck where she'd stabbed him. _

_ "Huh, I'd expected more," her eyes snapped to Blue Eyes. He was pulling the knife out from between his ribs. "Nice to see you, lieutenant," he said before swooping down on her. The last thing Molly saw was the bloody knife coming right towards her eyes-_

She tried to get away, but something was holding her wrists. She let out a panicked half sob/curse and wrenched against the rough material that was keeping her wrists painfully in place.

Warm hands gripped her shoulders.

"Hey, hey! Molly! It's ok, sweetheart," she knew that smell of cigarettes and Everclear all too well.

"Tool," she croaked. The tattooed man hugged her close and she saw Barney ducking out of the room.

"It was just a dream, Molls," he promised. She shuddered. "Look, Christmas and I are going to try and get you out of here. Just sit tight, ok?"

Molly nodded once, finally noticing Lacey and Christmas in the corner of her room. Christmas, as ever, was expressionless, his arms folded over his chest. Lacey was gnawing her bottom lip worriedly.

"Come on, brother," Tool beckoned, leaving the room. As soon as the door closed, Lacey came over and sat on the edge of the bed. She peeled away the velcro restraints, freeing Molly's wrists.

"Are you ok, Molly?" Lacey asked. Molly hugged her knees to her chest, flinching at the eruption of icy pain in her left knee.

"No, I'm not," she said vacantly.

* * *

Barney rubbed a hand over his face and kicked over an empty five gallon bucket. That couldn't have been Booker, not the girl who had been so fearless, so cold, so distant.

Molly Booker would never lose herself in past memories, she would never allow the shell shock to get a hold of her. She would never have let it dig its icy, merciless claws into the very fiber of her being.

Yet there she had been, trying to escape her subconscious as Tool tried to pull her back to reality. Barney hadn't been able to watch that, so he had left.

Like a coward.

_If it had been you, Barney Ross, Molly would have stayed. She would have looked at you with those big brown eyes and squeezed your hand with her own and she would have told you she would stay. There would have been no reassuring 'It will be ok's or false promises. She would have just sat there and held your hand, anchoring you to reality. You are her leader and a coward, Barney Ross. Because you refuse to help her when she needs it. _

Barney shook his head as if to rid himself of an annoying fly. He couldn't go back there and see her like that. He couldn't be faced with the consequences of what he had sent her into in Cairo.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N: Oh, golly, fellas! I'm sorry this took so long! Thanks for reading and reviewing :)**

* * *

When Molly woke the next morning, she found Yin Yang sitting at the table in the corner, newspaper open on his lap as he picked at a doughnut on a napkin. His dark eyes met hers when he heard her shift.

"Morning," he greeted plainly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Morning," she said.

"I bring doughnuts. Billy left to get you fresh books," Yang stated, rising and offering her the cardboard box. Molly picked out a cinnamon twist. The sugary sweetness took away the bitter taste in her mouth that the sedative had left.

"How are you, Yang?" Molly asked hoarsely. Yang shrugged.

"Good. I leave to visit my family tomorrow. I wanted to check on you before I left," he said simply.

"I hope you have a good time," Molly said, rubbing her eyes. He smiled and nodded before going back to his newspaper.

* * *

"She hurt herself yesterday?" Toll asked. The ex sniper didn't look up from the books that lined the waist high shelf that was between them.

"No, uh, doctors took a few x-rays. Her knee is inflamed, but they're giving her meds to bring the swelling down," Billy shook his head and pulled a crumpled list from his back pocket.

"What is that, man? You keep looking at it-"

"I googled Molly's favorite books and found ones similar to them," Billy admitted. Toll could see the faint pink of his cheeks under his beard.

"Well, hand it over," Toll beckoned. Billy frowned at the older man. "Billy, I _know_ what Molly's read, I know what kind of books she likes. I _also_ know this library like the back of my own hand. Now, do you want to be have Yang babysit her for the entire day while you wander around trying to find the books, or are you going to hand off the list so I can help you?"

"You were happy avoiding her a week ago. What's changed?" Billy asked gruffly.

"I pulled my head out of my ass," Toll said simply. Billy scoffed mirthlessly as he handed Toll the crumpled list.

"If only the rest of the guys could do the same."

"She's got you and Tool," Toll Road pointed out.

"We're not her team. She's been through hell and back with you guys, long before I ever came around," Billy said.

"I've tried to get them to visit her, but they don't want any part of it," Toll shook his head disgustedly, striding over to a shelf across the room to pull out a book.

"Why don't they want to see her?" Billy asked, a helpless edge to his voice. Toll sent him a dark look over his shoulder.

"You lost friends in Afghanistan, didn't you?" Toll asked. Billy's expression got distant. "You went to their funerals, got closure, right?"

Billy gave a halfhearted shrug.

"Imagine if they got hurt, they wouldn't ever be able to fight with you again, your _brothers_ would never be able to have your back, because you weren't there to help them. Would you _want_ to be around them and remind yourself of the way you screwed up?"

"But Molly doesn't _blame_ anybody-"

"I _know_, Billy, and I'm not trying to justify it. But it's what we all felt on the flight back. We sent Molly into a situation we weren't entirely sure of because it was supposed to be an easy, no blood job. And now she's in a wheelchair and things aren't exactly going well for her. _We, _as her team, f*cked up. She got hurt because of it. And everybody always wants to forget their mistakes, but Molly is a living, breathing reminder, her life's been ruined," Toll said seriously.

"She's not going to be in that chair forever, Toll, she's going to walk again," Billy retorted. Toll closed his eyes and exhaled.

"I'm just trying to help you understand why they're staying away," he told the young man. Billy shook his head.

"But you came by, so did Christmas, so did Yang."

"Christmas came because Lacey heard about it and wanted to see Molly," Toll shook his head. He knew that the Brit would have probably held out longer than Barney had it not been for his flighty, but kindhearted fiancee. Billy said nothing in response as Toll kept finding the books on the list.

Billy's arms were full when he spoke again.

"Molly's gonna walk again, Toll."

Toll Road just smiled sadly. _Would that everybody had Billy's faith_, he thought gravely to himself.

* * *

"Thanks for coming to visit me, Yang," Molly smiled genuinely at him. His smile was less bright as he squeezed her hand.

"Get better soon, Molly," he told her before leaving.

It wasn't long before Billy and Toll walked in. Billy had an armload of books and Toll had a paper sack that smelled like Chinese take out.

"Hey, Toll," Molly smiled.

"How's it going?" Toll sat the bag down on the table.

"I had physical therapy this morning. They gave me a pair of crutches," she seemed cheerful about that fact.

"Oh, yeah? When they gonna let you start walking again?" Toll asked, passing her a white carton of orange chicken.

"Not for another month," she grimaced, "Halloween, they think. They said I can go home soon, though."

"That's great, Molly," Billy said happily, "Toll helped me find a lot of books for you at the library."

Molly's interest piqued.

"Yeah? Whatcha got?"

"Slaughterhouse Five, by Kurt Vonnegut, Spirit Guide Bar, by William Snyder, a biography of Nathan Hale, and then this book called _The Fault in Our Stars_?" Billy held up the blue book questioningly.

"Reading that book is like cutting out your heart and then grinding it into the ground with stilettos," Molly grimaced. Billy looked at the book warily.

"You've read it before?" he asked warily.

"Yep, when it came out. Not a lot of books can have you laughing on one page, then crying on the next. I don't know if the author is evil or a genius. You should read it," she told Billy sincerely. The ex sniper shrugged complacently.

Toll spent another hour with them. They walked around the hospital gardens. Molly's elation at being out of the wheelchair made Toll feel a little less guilty for suggesting the psychologist that had tripped her up yesterday.

"I've gotta go. I'll see you later, Moll," Toll bade her farewell. She smiled crookedly, her brown eyes warm.

"See ya, Toll Road."

* * *

Billy turned the page, his blue eyes flicking over Molly's sleeping form. He didn't want to leave her alone, not after the hellish nightmares she'd been having.

They had watched Boondock Saints on the television that evening. Molly had dozed off around the time Rocco got his thumb shot off. Billy had turned to volume down and turned back to The Fault in Our Stars.

Molly had been right. The author was either a genius or evil. Right now, though, Billy was leaning towards evil.

He was about three quarters through the book when the door creaked open. His head snapped up. Barney was half in the room, half out.

"Hey, boss," Billy said softly. Barney carefully stepped into the room, leaving the door open. He never took his eyes away from Molly, curled on top of her blankets with an afghan draped across her.

Conscious, Molly was the epitome of dignity and pride, that hadn't changed since she'd lost her knee. All that dignity went out the window when she slept, though.

Her right leg was bent upwards, as if she meant to hitch her knee around something. Her hair, untangled from her braid, was curling up at every angle around her pillow. Rosy lips were parted with her steady breathing and her face was squished into the pillow that was cradled by her arms.

She had no pretenses to hold up as she rested.

"How is she?" Barney asked quietly. As he marked his page, Billy gave a half shrug.

"Doctors are going to let her go home soon. She's still got to stay off her leg, though...You know, I'm sure she'd appreciate you coming by while she's awake," Billy hinted dryly. Barney frowned.

"Nah, Kid. I'm-" Barney paused for a long moment, "It's not gonna do any good. Good night."

* * *

Molly woke rather peacefully the next morning, not remembering any dreams she may have had the night previous.

Billy was rubbing his bloodshot eyes, The Fault In Our Stars on the table in front of him.

"You didn't _sleep_ here, did you?" Molly was aghast.

"I didn't do any sleeping at all! Why would you have _anybody_ read that book!?" Billy wailed. Molly pressed her face into her pillow, still feeling languorous. She looked up at him, a mischievous, but gentle smile on her face.

"_Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book._" Molly quoted, that sleepy little smile still on her lips.


	45. Jim Beam Drowns Memories

There were very few things Barney Ross refused to think about. And if the memories surfaced, he would drown them in Jim Beam.

His father and mother, two separate issues entirely, were both victims of the Jim Beam drowning. So was Conrad Stonebanks, but that one Barney made sure to keep locked down tight. It was very rarely that it surfaced.

The memory that always seemed to be encouraged by alcohol, though, instead of hindered, was Reggie Frasier.

She was tall and skinny, with a short mop of curly, ginger hair and piercing, hazel eyes. She had been a drifter among mercenaries, going where she was most needed.

Of course, being a woman in a time where women were scarce in the business, she took a lot of flak. Barney had been drawn in by her devil-may-care attitude towards the doubters.

God, how long ago had that been?

They'd both met in the beginning of their careers, in the eighties. Their relationship had been easier than any of the others Barney had ever had. There had been no lies or falsities to cover up their jobs. They were just _them_. They didn't have to be anything more or less than what they were.

They had fought and loved and lived together. And it was the happiest Barney had ever been.

But then something had changed with Reggie. He came home from a long job and she had her bag packed on the front porch. She told him she was quitting the business and she left him with an empty house and a bitter heart.

That had been the last time he'd cried over a woman.

He'd heard rumors, over the years, murmurs through the grapevine, that she was working in Massachusetts, renovating old houses, but it was nothing concrete.

Barney knew he could have asked Tool and the old man would have had an answer for him within the hour, but Barney wasn't a masochist. He didn't want to hurt any more than he had to. She had closed their chapter long ago.

_She_ had closed the chapter. Their separation had been entirely of her doing. Barney hadn't chased after her, and in the night, when his empty house was still and quiet and the lights had been shut off, between the glasses of whiskey, his biggest regret was letting her walk away.

It was lucky for him, though, that God has a shitty sense of humor.

Because, in Russia, in 1986, John Booker had saved Regina Frasier's life and she had never repaid him.

So, when John Booker had been informed of his daughter's handicap, Reggie was the one he called up.

That's why she arrived at Tool's in the middle of a hot Louisiana afternoon. Reggie would never let a debt go unpaid. She couldn't refuse.

* * *

The wrench fell out of Barney's hands when he saw her, leaning in the door way, the sun's light creating a golden halo around her head.

"Jesus, _Reggie_?" Barney was infinitely grateful for Tool's presence in that moment. The man's genial greeting gave Barney a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Heya, Tool," a smile stretched over her thin lips, crinkling the crow's feet around her eyes. She had aged well, better than anybody else Barney had known from those days. "Barney," her smile got softer as she looked at him.

"Reg," he nodded coolly, "What are you doin' here?"

Tool got a very nervous look on his face.

"You know, kids, I've got stuff to do, so, uh, I'll leave you to it." He made a hasty retreat out of the room.

"Paying an old debt. Booker sent me. Apparently, his little girl got her knee blown out. He didn't figure he'd be welcome, so I came instead. You got any clue where I can find her?"

Barney bent over to pick up his wrench.

"No idea," he said curtly, turning back to his truck. He heard her approach. She leaned against the truck, too close for Barney's comfort. Her skin was millimeters from his. Barney shifted.

"You're still a shit liar, Barney. I know she's your medic. I've got to watch out for her. Where. Is. She?" Reggie's tone had gotten harder.

"You shouldn't have come, Reg," Barney looked up at her. Her eyes, several shades lighter than Molly's, flashed dangerously.

_God, she and Molly would take like fire and gasoline_, Barney thought. Then he realized what kind of _hell_ they could put him through if they ever teamed up. That just made his resolve grow stronger.

"Barney-" she started. He knew that tone. She was going to work herself up into a good rage, give him a good verbal lashing. But Barney wasn't capable of handling that shit right now. He had enough on his plate with worrying about Molly.

"Don't. Booker came through and left a helluva clean up. He said some nasty shit, and a lot of decisions he made f*cked up Molly's life. Leave her _alone_," Barney warned severely.

Reggie pursed her lips and folded her arms over her chest.

"I can't do that, Barney," and then she left. Tool came in a moment later, looking anxious.

"Everything alright?" he asked. Barney yanked his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Billy's number.

"Billy, when's Molly going home?"

"Uh, this evening, why?"

"Make it sooner. Booker's sending an old friend to check up on Molly, and I'm not sure how much she's going to appreciate that," Barney said gruffly.

"This old friend have a name?" Billy asked cautiously.

"Reggie Frasier. Ginger, tall, late fifties," Barney rattled off.

"Alright. I'll keep an eye out and get her home soon," Billy said firmly. Barney paused a moment before speaking.

"I'll drop by tonight," he promised. Billy said nothing for a long minute.

"I think Molly would appreciate that."

* * *

**A/N: So, this OC is based completely off of Sigourney Weaver. Because she would be _so_ badass in the Expendables. Thanks for reading! :)**


	46. Chapter 46

"Here," the older woman offered Molly the can she'd dropped. The medic took it gratefully with a smile. Bending down with her crutches was a difficult thing to do.

"Thanks," Molly said, putting it in her cart.

"No problem. You got somebody here to help you?" the ginger woman asked curiously. Molly grimaced. She had nearly resorted to beating Billy over the head with one of her crutches to get him to let her do her grocery shopping alone.

She had been home for a day. Barney had never dropped in like Billy said and she had seen neither hide nor hair of the rest of the team.

_It's been a month, Molly. What's going to make them come visit you now if they haven't yet?_

Lacey and Toll had both called to check in, and Tool brought by a six pack. But that was it.

Molly had always prided herself on being able to function in isolation, but she _missed_ her team. And poor Billy wasn't sure how to help.

"I can handle myself," Molly said coolly. The woman cracked a grin.

"I figured. Just thought I'd ask. Have a good day now."

* * *

That interaction stuck with Molly for the rest of the day, no matter how she tried to shake it off. Something about the woman had just seemed so familiar, like an old dream that she should have remembered.

"You ok?" Billy wondered as she stirred the chicken noodle soup that was simmering on the stove.

"I'm fine. You wanna mash the potatoes?"

"Sure."

They had just settled down to supper when the doorbell rang. Molly stiffened, her hand reaching for the pistol at her side. Since she'd gotten out of the hospital, she hadn't taken it off.

Nobody _ever_ rang her doorbell. The team always knocked and waited for her to come to the door, shouting, sometimes, if they felt the urge.

"It's alright, Molls. I'll get it. Take your pills, would you?" Billy had been rather understanding about her unwillingness to take the pain medicine that she had been prescribed, but he had put his foot down about the antipsychotics.

They mellowed Molly's moods, but the nightmares hadn't been as gruesome, so she didn't complain.

* * *

Before Billy opened the door, he made sure the shotgun was there in the corner. One of the best things about Molly's house was that you didn't have to go far to find a weapon.

A middle aged woman with reddish hair stood on the porch. She wore a polite smile.

"Hi, is Molly around?"

Billy, recalling his phone call with Barney, immediately went on the defensive. He squared his shoulders and stance.

"Who's asking?" he asked coolly.

"My name's Reggie Frasier. I'm a family friend," she introduced, obviously unfazed. Billy's eyes narrowed.

"Which side of the family?" Billy asked suspiciously. He knew Molly had a few aunts and uncles, back in Virginia, but he doubted that's where this woman came from.

"John's. That sorry old bastard saved my life. He wanted me to check in on his girl."

"I'm not his anything," Molly said coldly from behind Billy. He turned to meet her cold gaze.

"Go on and eat before it gets cold, Molls, I'll handle this," he promised her. She limped forward, her dark eyes smoldering.

"I _knew_ there was something I didn't like about you," she spat at the woman. "Tell my dad he can go f*ck himself.

"I will when he calls and asks for an update, but until you're walking on your own again, I'm not leaving town," Reggie said firmly.

"Bet you are," Molly lifted her pistol. Reggie smirked.

"And here I was thinking you were Booker's girl...I guess I never realized you had your mom, too," Reggie drawled. Billy watched Molly's bravado falter.

"You knew my mom."

Reggie shifted her weight to one side, letting her hip stick out as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, I did. Not as well as I would have liked. Booker asked me to keep my distance after he split."

Molly narrowed her eyes. Billy's eyes bounced back and forth, wondering if he was going to have to instep Molly to keep her from lunging.

He was trying to figure out the best way not to hurt her, should the need arise, when she uncocked the gun and turned the safety on.

"You wanna come in?"

"Uh, Molly?" Billy turned his back to Reggie and lowered his voice, "Barney told me to watch out for this lady-"

"If Barney Ross wants to have a say in how I run my life, then he could do the damn courtesy of showing his face instead of sending cryptic messages through you and Tool," Molly said waspishly. Billy ducked his head and Molly felt regret replace her irritation.

She lifted a hand to cup his cheek.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's not your fault Barney's being a prick. Let's go eat."

* * *

Molly asked a few guarded questions and Reggie took off, telling stories of years past. Billy didn't think he'd ever seen the medic look so starry eyed.

Billy felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, so he quietly rose and walked down the hall. Chinook followed him out onto the porch.

"Hey, Barney," Billy greeted tiredly.

"Kid, how's she doing?" Barney asked.

"She's washing dishes with Reggie Frasier," Billy stated bluntly. Barney cursed colorfully and Billy held the phone away from his ear.

"Damn it, Kid! I _told_ you-"

"And I passed it on to Molly. She chose to ignore it. Reggie apparently knew Molly's mom. They've been talking."

"Fine. Bye, Kid," Barney's tone was clipped before he hung up.

* * *

Billy would be lying if he said that the middle aged woman made him uncomfortable. She exuded a serene feeling as they sat in Molly's living room, eating pie and sharing stories. It had been a long time since Billy had seen Molly smile as much as she was now.

"Your mom was a hellion, Molly, I don't think I've ever seen a woman with such a bad temper. She held a gun to my head the first time we met. Thought I was there to hurt her," Reggie grinned.

Molly opened her mouth to respond, but a hard knocking on the door made her pause. Molly shot a curious look to Billy.

The ex sniper had lost some of his color.

"I'll get it," Molly rose, balancing on her crutches. Billy and Reggie followed her into the entry way. "Get back, ya big oaf," Molly grouched at Chinook before opening up the door. All she saw before Barney roughly pushed past her were Tool and Christmas's grim faces. Molly stumbled back into the door as Barney grabbed Reggie's arm in a bruising hold.

"I _told_ you to stay away from my team!" Barney spat angrily. Molly, leaning heavily on one of her crutches, shoved the rubber end of her other one into the back of Barney's knee.

"Let go of her!" Molly snarled. Chinook's teeth were bared and his hackles stood on end. Barney rounded on her.

"Molly, you don't know-"

"F*ck you, Barney, get out of my house!" Molly snapped, cutting him off.

Barney's brows shot up. Sure, Molly had always been a smart ass, and maybe not as blatantly respectful as Billy, but she had never spoken to him like that.

"If you think you can avoid me for almost six weeks and then just _show up_ to attack one of the people who _bothered_ to check in on me, then you've got another thing coming!" she continued. Then Barney saw it; behind the burning anger, there was a lot of hurt.

He had f*cked up, royally.

Reggie pulled her arm out of his slackened grip.

"Get out. I don't want to see you until you've stopped acting like a goddamned prick." Yes, he could see the over brightness in her eyes and hear the tremor in her voice.

Barney turned and stepped out of the house, wincing as she slammed the door. Christmas was pointedly avoiding his gaze, but Tool met his eyes boldly, the message clear: _You screwed up, Barney Ross._

* * *

"You ready to discuss things like a rational person, now?" Molly asked coolly as Barney walked up to her porch. Her mug of cider, sitting on the arm of her porch swing, was long cooled.

She had come out onto the porch before the sun had even risen, with her damp hair hanging around her shoulders. Chinook had laid on her feet, keeping them warm as the sky faded from the dark hues to the golden warmth.

Barney gave her a half apologetic look as he sat on the other end of the swing.

"Billy stay the night?" his eyes swept over the bike parked next to her truck. Molly shook her head, rolling her eyes heavenwards.

"You really come here to ask if I had a sleepover?" her voice was still cool.

"No," Barney admitted, sinking back into the swing, his expression unreadable. "I was out of line last night."

Molly scoffed, but she knew that was the closest thing she would get to an apology out of Barney.

"Reggie's not leaving. I tried to get her to. She's pretty solid," Molly told him firmly. A reminiscent smile twisted his lips.

"Yeah, I know it."

The two sat out there in a thick silence until Billy, dressed in his Batman pajama pants and a t shirt stuck his head out.

"Hey, Barney," he greeted, his blue eyes trailing over the pair.

"Billy," he nodded, standing up, "I'll see you around, Booker."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, fellas! This is mostly a filler, but it will pick up soon!**


	47. Chapter 47

Molly bit her lip hard as she set weight on her leg. She was trying to use the support bars on either side of her as little as possible. She didn't want a crutch.

It was her second load bearing physical therapy appointment. That first day, her leg had buckled and she'd hit the ground. Her therapist, Doctor Simmons, had heaved her up like it was the easiest thing in the world. Her cheeks burned at the memory.

She had been home for a month, hobbling around on her crutches, and trying to soothe her wounded pride as Billy hung around and helped her with _everything_.

Molly exhaled sharply. She was _not_ going to spend the rest of her life on crutches, getting pitying looks from everybody-

Molly hit the ground hard, her wrists aching from the impact. She huffed out a breath.

"Come on, you almost had it," Doctor Simmons encouraged gently, trying to help her up. Molly jerked away and reached for the support bars.

"No I didn't," she spat viciously. Her hair was plastered to her sweat beaded face and neck. Her leg was throbbing. Molly pulled herself up roughly.

She truly did look a sight. Her blue tank top was dark with sweat at the collar and under arms and her braid was half undone. But it wasn't just her clothes that worried Doctor Simmons.

He knew that harsh set to her jaw, that coldness in her brown eyes, the way she fisted her hands. Molly Booker was angry at the world, and he didn't know how she was going to handle anger.

Working with people who suffered from sudden disabilities, especially veterans, Doctor Eugene Simmons _knew_ how many things could go wrong.

"Look, Molly, I know this is hard, ok? But you have improved _so_ _much_-"

"Yeah, save the inspirational speech, Doc," she began to shuffle forward a bit, keeping most of her weight on her right leg.

"Are you still taking the medicine you were prescribed, for the PTSD and pain?" Doctor Simmons asked plainly. Molly glared down at the floor mat as she tried to walk again. "Molly?" he pressed.

"I'm taking half the pain dosage so I can sleep at night," she exhaled, her face red with exertion as she lurched forward, catching herself on the bars this time.

"And the antipsychotic?" he prompted. She shifted baleful eyes over him.

"You know, I'd feel a lot better about taking it if it had a different name," she spat, "Antipsychotic. Ha! You don't know what _real_ psychosis is."

"I know, Molly. But are you taking it?"

"Yes," she grumbled, "Every morning. You can ask my live in nurse if you want!" she said sarcastically.

"Billy still staying with you?" Doctor Simmons asked in that calm way of his.

"Yep," she let out another harsh breath, shifting forward, "I got him to go home a few days ago, to check his apartment, but he might as well be living there now. He's set up an air mattress in the spare room and his dog has become best friends with mine," Molly shook her head.

"You don't like the invasion of privacy," Simmons stated. Molly gave him a dark look.

"You know what happened to the last guy who tried to psychoanalyze me, Doc?"

Doctor Simmons smiled slightly.

"Yes. I know it can be hard, Molly, to lose your independence, but you know he's just trying to help you, right?"

"I know, Doc. And I love him for it, but I'm not made of f*cking spun glass," Molly dropped down and stretched her leg out, wincing. Doctor Simmons helped her straighten it out gently.

"Would you like me to talk to him?"

"I doubt he'll listen, Doc. You know how many times I've tried to kick him out over the last month?"

Doctor Simmons shot her a wry smile. He liked her, he did. She was stubborn as a mule and hellbent on overcoming her disability, which earned her his respect and endearment.

"I think that's enough for today," he said, "are you still doing the exercises I gave you?"

Molly nodded.

"Good. I'll see you in four days. Do you need to call somebody to come pick you up?"

Before Molly could open her mouth to respond, a voice rumbled from the doorway.

"No need for that, Doc."

Gunnar stood, filling up the door with his large frame. His head was bowed and he wasn't meeting Molly's eyes.

"Long time no see," Molly's voice was resentful and icy.

"Billy and Tool had to work. I offered to come pick you up," Gunnar said, still not lifting his eyes. Molly pursed her lips. Doctor Simmons was shooting her worried looks. She nodded reassuringly at him.

* * *

Gunnar made no move to help her into his truck, and had she not been so annoyed with him, she might have appreciated that.

Molly winced when she heard the engine snarl to life. Gunnar's truck was a clunker, if she had ever seen one, and he refused to fix it up.

The half an hour drive out of the city and to her home passed in thick silence. Five minutes into it, Gunnar turned on his radio and Molly heard the cassette click on. She was mildly amused when she heard Twisted Sister crackle through the old speakers.

The music gave them a viable excuse to not talk.

Reggie's venom green convertible Bug was parked in the driveway. Gunnar made no comment on it as he put his truck in park.

Molly climbed out with a clipped, "Thanks for the ride." She said nothing as he followed her up the walk and into the house.

* * *

"How'd it go?" Reggie's voice called from the kitchen. Apart from Billy, she had been the only other constant in the last month. Molly knew Tool was busy with the team, trying to run interference, track down new jobs, and run his shop.

"Ah, well, you know," Molly called grumpily already trying to head upstairs to her bathroom. Her center of mass shifted and she felt a swooping sensation in her stomach as she rocked backwards. A large hand pressed against the middle of her back before she could make the tumultuous fall.

"Thanks," she told Gunnar warily. He made noise of acknowledgment in the back of his throat.

* * *

"What do you think about getting a turkey for Thanksgiving?" Reggie asked when Molly came down the steps. Gunnar was at the breakfast bar, sipping a beer.

"You think that you, me, and Billy can eat a turkey by ourselves?" Molly drawled sarcastically, pulling a carton of apple juice from the fridge and pouring herself a glass.

"I can get the guys to come," Gunnar grumbled, peering down into his bottle. Molly cocked a brow at Reggie.

"It's polite to look at people when you talk to them, Frankenstein," Reggie snapped. Gunnar's blue eyes lifted to Reggie's.

"Who the hell are you anyways?"

"Your boss's ex girlfriend," Reggie snapped. Gunnar choked on his beer.

"_What?!_" he coughed, his piercing blue eyes watering. His eyes were colder than Billy's more distant. Reggie glanced over at Molly. There was no surprise on her face. Molly had guessed as much.

"You think I should have led with that?" Reggie asked her, looking thoroughly unapologetic.

"Probably," Molly agreed, clearing her throat.

"You think you can get 'em to show up?" Reggie turned back to Gunnar. The blonde giant nodded once, finishing off his beer.

"I'll see you around, Molly," Gunnar squeezed her shoulder before leaving the house.


End file.
